NOBLE   LIVING  AND  GRAND  ACHIEVEMENT. 


GIANTS  OF  THE  REPUBLIC 


EMIKACISCi  TIIK 


LIVES,  DEEDS.  AND   PERSONAL  TRAITS  OF   EMINENT  STATESMEN. 
GREAT    GENERALS.    NOTED    REFORMERS.   SUCCESSFUL 
MEN   OF   BUSINESS,   DISTINGUISHED    LITER- 
ARY MEN,  AND  FAMOUS  WOMEN. 

BY  A  CORPS  OF  COMPETENT  BIOGRAPHERS: 

DR.  HAMILTON  \V.  MARIE.  JOHN  S.  C.  ABBOTT,  PROF.  VV.  W.  BIRUSAII  .  bUWAKD  S.  EI.LIS, 

JAMES    PARTON.    FRANCES    E.   VVIl.l.ARU.    1**.\RY    FERRIS, 

W.  FLETCHER  JOHNSON.  AND  OTIiERS. 

INTRODUCTION 
BY  EDWASfP'JEVEi^RTT  HALE,  LL.D., 

*•     '.    •  •   •   ! .  ' 

•••  %  ••  :  :  • 


I    •  •  • 

•   •      • 


1UuDtratc^  wttft  maofilftccnt  fu'lUpaoc  pbotooravurc  portraita, 

AND  A  WEAI.ril   OF  OTIU'R    FINK    FN^  IKAVINCS. 


"  Lives  of  {jrcat  nun  all  riinind  iis 
Wo  can  ni.ike  our  livis  -ullinie. 
Ami,  (U'pavtinn,  leavo  Ix'liiml  us 
Fool  piinls  on  the  sanils  of  limir." 


JOHN  C.  WIXSTOX  &CO 
riiiLADFXi'HiA,  I'A.  cincvco,  ii.i.,  .svRAcr.s;:.  v.  v.  Toronto,  ont. 

1896. 


emerect  accorHiiiR  to  Art  of  CoiiRress.  in  the  year  iSoj,  by 

.JOHN  C.  WlNSTiiN  S:  CO., 

in  the  odice  i>f  the  I.ihrariaii  of  Coiisress,  al  Washington. 

All  rights  tfserveJ. 


••• 


'  \\  \   - 


ALL   PEKSONS  ARE  WAKNED   SOT  TO   INFUINCiF.    UPON  OUR   COI'VKKJIIT    I)Y  USING    EITHFH    THE 
MATTEK   OR   THE   I'ICTUKES   IN   THIS   VOLUME. 


INTRODUCTION. 

BV   i:i)\V.\KlJ  I'.VKKKTT  IIAI-l",  I>.  U., 
Author  of  "  The  Man  Without  a  C^untty,"  etc. 


'WW.  history  of  mankind  is  made  up 
of  the  bi<)L;i'ai)hi(;s  of  men.  This  is  a 
simple  enoiii^h  tiling;  to  say,  and  yet  it 
woulil  sei;m.  from  a  iL^ood  many  histories, 
that  it  had  ncviir  occurred  to  their  writers. 
It  is  ([uite  certain,  however,  that  we  appre- 
ciat(;  and  understand  the  history  ot  our 
race  most  thoroughly,  in  those  j)eriods 
where'  we  know  of  the  p('rs(MiaI  lives  of 
many  of  the  actors.  The  periods  where 
we  do  not  know  anythinn'  of  individual 
lives  are  to  us  ilreary  deserts.  I'or  in- 
stance, it  would  probably  be  fair  to  say 
that  tlie  reason  we  i^ivc;  the  Dark  Al^h^s 
that  bad  name,  is  that  most  of  us  know 
little  or  nothim;  of  the  jxTsonal  movements 
or  of  indivitlual  lives  oi  men  and  women 
in  those  a<;es. 
The  book  in  the  reader's  hands  is  compileil  in  the  effort  to  brin^-  together 
the  lives  of  a  hundreil  men  and  womcm  who  have  led  the  Unite-d  .States  since 
the  miiKlIe  of  the  last  c(!ntury.  It  is  a  very  remarkable  series.  Ihe  people  of 
the  United  .States  in  that  tin :e  have  exhibited  a  j^enius  for  the  sci(Mice  of  j^overn- 
ment,  such  as  the  workl  has  i  ever  elsewhere  seen.  In  a  hundred  and  fifty  years 
followini;-  the  tu'st  settlement  of  these  coasts,  there  L,'rew  up  on  the  edi,;e  of  the 
Atlantic  ( )cean  thirteen  .State;;.  ,\t  the  time  of  th(!  Revolution  these  .States 
were  strong'  enough  to  ecjuip  ar.nies  and  navies,  and  to  defeat  Geori^-e  the  Third, 
who  sup|)osed  that  he  was  the;  sJ:ronq;est  monarch  in  Europe  when  the  Revolu- 
tion bci^an.  The  people  in  thest;  thirteen  .States  then  had  to  organize  forms  of 
government  wholly  new  for  themselves  and  their   successors.     They  took  the 


f^^'^'^jjHjHIHIH 

■■■ 

•"^^^^^^^^^^^^^^T^^^^^; 

^^p             ^^H 

^1 

'  '^>iP  t  i          "V'"  ^"tKrc^^^^^^H 

b  .;■■ 

'^k' mt'                         '    ■    ' '  'i^^^^H 

P'  '*•'■•'' 

HK»%^R 

tk-M 

rft^r*^    ■      v^WS^^y^^ 

Im^.  J'  ^sfl 

^^ 

H^l 

■>^^L  A     ''''-^^^l 

H 

^} __    J^^AiHK 

RinvAKI)    EVERETT    HAJ.E.  t).   I)., 


6  IXTRODUCTION. 

traditions  ami  mcthniis  whicli  had  bocn  dmclopcd  in  a  century  and  a  half,  thry 
studied  with  care  tht;  history  of  luirope,  and  they  orL^ani/ed  a  set  of  constitu- 
tions wliich  have  made  a  new  era  in  the  political  history  of  the  workl.  In  the 
first  lives  in  this  voluini;,  the  authors  have  tried  to  L,Mve  to  the  cari'ful  reader 
some  idea  of  the  make-up  of  those  men  who  enj^Mi^ed  in  work  so  remarkable;; 
and  we  shall  be  disappointed  if  the  American  reader  dt)es  not  appreciate  more 
hi;4hly  the  successes  of  thi;  i^reat  founders  of  the  republic,  from  knowing'  more 
inliinatily  th<;  dcitails  of  tlieir  lives  and  of  their  (xlucation. 

It  is  impossible  to  say  that  all  these  lives  differ,  in  any  one  essential  (juality, 
from  livt:s  which  have  been  led  under  the  old  civilizations  of  the  ICuropean 
world.  Hut  in  almost  every  one  of  them  the  reatU.T  will  find  a  certain  (piality 
which  he  does  not  tind  in  the  averas^e  bioi^raphy  of  persons  brought  up  und(;r 
ICuro[)ean  forms.  If  we  compare  a  typical  American  with  a  typical  European, 
the  contrast  is  very  stronij^.  There  is  sometimes  an  American  who  has  been 
educated  in  the  European  forms,  and  there  is  sometimes  an  inhabitant  of  the 
old  continent  who  has  been  educated  in  unconventional  forms,  and  in  such  a 
case  the  contrast  between  these  two  would  not  be  stronij.  lUit,  speakini^  in 
}.,feneral,  we  may  say  that  the  book  in  the  reader's  hands  will  i;ive  him,  if  he 
reads  it  carefully,  a  j^^ooil  concejition  of  what  we  mean  when  we  speak  of  the 
American  type,  and  so  it  will  perhaps  show  to  him  how  the  history  of  the  world 
has  been  affected  by  that  providence  which,  in  the  discovery  of  America,  gave 
white  paper  for  the  writing  of  its  history. 


Till-:  misfortune  of  most  bioi,'raphy  is  a  certain  blindness  which  comes  over 
the  writer,  when  he  forgets  that  his  special  business  is  to  show  his  hero  to  the 
reader,  and  that  he  is  not  engaged,  in  the  first  instance,  to  give  the  general 
history  of  the  hero's  time.  Even  Mr.  Irving  lapsed  here  when  he  wrote  his 
Life  of  Washington.  There  are  whole  chapters  of  that  life  in  which  Washing- 
ton's name  is  not  mentionetl.  More  than  half  of  it  is  a  history  of  the  United 
States,  for  the  years  when  Washington  was  commander-in-chief  of  her  army,  or 
was  President.  On  the  other  hand,  the  value  of  biography,  as  the  common 
sense  of  the  world  has  found  out,  is  in  such  writing  as  Plutarch's.  It  may  be 
doubted  wh(;ther  Plutarch  were  a  very  large  man  ;  it  is  certain  that  he  did  not 
take  very  nol>le  views,  eith(;r  of  man.  of  God,  or  of  history.  Put  Plutarch  hatl 
the  great  art  of  being  entertaining.  His  speculations  maybe  foolish,  but  his 
narrative  is  interesting.  Whoever  will  carefully  study  his  method,  will  see  that 
there  was  perh.aps  an  advantage  to  Plutarch  that  he  wrote  befon;  the  days  of 
printing,  and,  in  most  cases,  some  centuries  after  the  men  had  dictl  whom  he 
described.  The  law  of  selection  applied,  therefore,  for  those  things  which  were 
Interesting  about  these  men  were  still   remembered,  while  the  uninteresting 


INTRODUCflON.  , 

thin}j[s  had  sunk  to  tin:  bottom  and  were  fori^ottcn, — by  the  men;  hrv  of  the 
attraction  of  L;ravitation,  one  niii^hl  say.  IMutarch  writes  wliat  had  proved  to 
inter(;st  niankiml,  and  leaves  tht;  n;st  unwritten.  .\nd  what  is  it  that  interests 
mankind  ?  Infallibly  it  is  the  n.irralivt:  of  events,  if  thai  narrali\<;  be  enliveiu-d 
by  the  personal  characteristics  of  men  enL;a,L,^ed  in  the  aff  lir.  In  Plutarch's  case. 
\.\\v.  most  vivid  of  such  cliaracleristics  siione  throui^h  the  ilust  and  mist  and 
smoke  of  centuries.  1  le  recorileil  what  he  knew,  and  did  not  record  the  rest, 
bi  cause  he  c(juld  not. 

The  reader  of  this  volume  will  find,  as  I  hope,  that  the  various  accomplished 
authors  who  have  been  en^Mi^red  in  it  have  been  workiut;  on  the  principle  which 
is  illustrated  in  Plutarch's  <,freat  success.  We  shall  be  disap|)ointed  if  readi;r.s 
do  not  see  iiow  the  personality  of  such  L^^reat  men  has  atfected  the  time  in  which 
they  lived.  They  (ni^ht  to  learn  that  what  is  called  the  drift  of  history,  or  the 
order  of  events,  really  results  from  the  orij^inal  life  and  purpose  of  the  men  and 
women  who  make  \\\)  history. 

Tin:  European  critics  of  American  life,  who  have  never  seen  American  life 
with  their  own  eyes,  are  apt  to  construct  a  theory  ren^aruiiiL;  us  ami  our  history 
wliich  has  no  real  foundation.  John  Stuart  Mill,  for  instance,  at  many  different 
times,  expressed  his  opinion  that  in  a  social  order  resting-  upon  univtTsal 
suffrai^e,  men  will  be  forced  by  the  pressure  of  a  common  life  into  a  certain 
averaije  e.xistence,  in  which  each  man  will  resemble  each  other  man,  (juite  as  so 
many  shoe-pe^^s  resemble  each  other  when  they  are  cut  by  the  same  machine. 
Mr.  Mill  does  not  say  so,  but  if  one  wer,-  to  <.:[ive  an  illustration  or  two,  he  was 
afraid  that  an  American  Lont^fellow  woukl  be  exactly  like  an  American  Lin- 
coln, or  an  .\merican  Franklin  exactly  like  an  American  Benedict  Arnold,  'lo 
us,  on  this  side  of  the  water,  who  suppose  that  we  are  living  in  a  world  of  per- 
sons curiously  unlike  each  other,  such  ^frave  criticisms  as  these  by  Mr.  Mill, 
Mr.  Matthew  Arnold,  and  other  critics,  who  are  writinj^- about  that  of  which  they 
know  very  little,  seem  amusini,^.  The  contrasts  jjresentcd  between  different 
lives  in  this  volume  will  show  how  little  danger  we  are  in  from  this  source,  at 
least  for  several  centuries. 

Carkitt.  readers,  again,  will  observe  one  distinguishing  mark  of  .Xmerlcan 
life,  in  the  voulh  of  manv  of  th<;  actors  in  our  L'^reat  dramas,  so  much  vouivf-r 
are  they  than  most  of  the  men  distinguished  in  similar  work  in  the  Old  World, 
Thus,  when  th(;  war  of  the  Revolution  began,  Washington  was  only  forty-thre«;. 
It  Is  amusing  to  see  how  his  younger  fritnids  venerated  his  age.  Of  his  aides, 
Hamilton  was  nineteen  when  he  commandeil  a  battery  in  New  York  and  first 
attracted  \\"ashington's  attention.  Lafayette  was  nineteen  when  he  was 
wounded  at  Brandywine.     Pickering,  who  was  quartermaster-general  when  the 


8  IXTRODUCT/ON. 

war  cndfd,  was  but  tw(MUy-s«;viMi  when  it  hcL^an.  Knox  was  twenty-five. 
Nathan  1 1  alt;,  the  hero  of  youni;  Americans,  was  but  twenty-one  whe-n  he  died 
fur  his  country,  and  cxprcssecl  liis  r«'i,a(!t  that  he  had  but  one  Hfe  to  t^ivc  for  her. 
Of  tJK;  five  leaders  in  the  founding;  of  the  nation,  whose  bio;4ra|)hies  we 
have  here,  the  averajije  a^^e  wIumi  the  war  be;>,Mn  was  but  thirty-three.  Adams 
and  Jefferson,  as  is  well  rennMnbered,  were  so  yount;  that  they  lived  to  see  the 
i,fr<:atness  of  tlnir  ccnintry  half  a  century  after  that  Declaration  of  Independence 
with  which  th<  y  had  be(Mi  so  closely  connectt.-d. 

The  reailiness  with  which  youni^f  nn^n  thus  come  forward  into  positions  of 
trust  and  autlvjrity  is  rt.'ailiiy  accounte-d  for  by  anyone  who  has  seen  the  cuneli- 
tions  of  a  new  settitMiK.nt.  Tiiose  conditions  mark  the  arran^^ements  of  a  risinj,' 
State.  The  new  town  nct-ds  ev(;ry  one  it  can  call  into  service.  If  a  younj^ 
man  can  do  a  man's  work,  h(;  must.  To  revert  a_i,fain  to  the  conditic^ns  of  rhe 
war  fjf  the  Revolution,  wIkmi  Hur^oyne  hail  driven  in  the  American  ailvance  on 
the  shore  of  Lake  Chami)lain,  when  there  was  danj^cr  that  his  well-e([uippetl 
army  mi:^ht  sweep  throui^h  the  wliole  valU^y  of  the  Connecticut,  the  States  of 
Massachusetts  and  Connecticut  ordered  out  every  boy  who  was  above  the  age 
of  fifteen  to  meet  the  invading  force.  If  he  could  carry  a  musket,  the  boy  was 
old  enough  and  big  enough.  Conditions  like  those  lead  to  the  rapid  advance 
of  young  men.  And  even  when  the  circumstances  have  ail  changed,  the 
power  of  such  conditions,  tiirough  generations  before,  shows  itself  all  through 
the  social  order. 

The  division  into  different  books,  which  we  have  adopted,  brings 
together  those  great  characters  who  illustrate  the  service  which  has  betm 
rendered  to  our  country  in  different  fit'UIs  of  activity.  The  reader  will  readily 
note  for  himself  the  points  at  which  the  lives  of  these  great  men  touch 
each  other.  He  ought  also  to  see  how  largely  each  life  is  affected  by  the  inllu- 
ences  of  republican  government,  and  those  conditions  which  belong  to  States 
in  th(-'ir  youth  or  in  their  infancy.  I'ulton  in  his  earlier  life  painted  a  portrait  of 
Dr.  I'ranklin,  which  is  one  of  the  curious  memorials  of  that  time.  John  Quincy 
Adams  is  now  most  often  remembered  for  the  marvelous  activity  and  spirit  which 
he  shf)wed  in  his  old  age  ;  but,  as  the  reader  will  see,  his  personal  memories  ran 
back  to  the  days  when  he  copied  documents  for  his  father  in  the  time  of  the 
Revolution.  Young  men  should  remember,  indeed,  that  all  through  his 
early  diary  we  find  his  expressions  of  regret  that  he  had  not  the  skill  of  an 
orator,  and  it  shouUl  encourage  them  to  recollect  that  when  he  died  he  was  most 
often  called  the   "  oUl  man  eloquent." 

Hut,  without  attempting  in  detail  to  show  how  closely  the  work  of  one  of 
these  heroes  depends  upon  that  of  another,  we  ought  to  call  the  reader's  atten- 
tion to  that  many-sidedness  of  American  life  which,  in  each  case,  compels  strong 


/XTK(Wi'CT/OJ\r.  g 

people  to  occupy  themselves  in  public  affairs.  Tcj  a  true  American,  there  must 
be  no  jealous  seclusion  of  hiinsdf  from  his  fellow-men.  It  is  not  simply  that  at 
each  election  he  has  his  part  to  Ix  ar;  in  every  civil  cont<.:st  he  must  define  his 
position. 

'i'he  literature  of  the  country  is  therefore  v<  ry  clf)sely  connecteil  with  its 
politics,  with  its  inventioii,  with  its  discovery.  AlthouL;h  at  certain  times  we  call 
very  naturally  upon  the  stroiiijest  men  to  ^o  into  the  adniinistration  of  the  _l;()v- 
ernment,  on  th(!  whole  we  are  well  pleaseil  if  such  a  man  as  Heecher  keeps  his 
position  in  the  pulpit  of  I'lymouth  Chnrrh,  .md  dot^s  not  seek  an  apiiointment 
as  a  tliplomatis:  or  a  member  of  the  House  of  Representatives.  If  Mrs.  Stow(; 
tjives  her  prayer  and  th<)ui_;ht  and  timc!  and  uj^enius  to  writing,'' "  Uncle  Tom's 
Cabin,"  we  are  as  well  pleasetl  at  the  result  as  if  she  had  hv.v.n  canvassing-  for 
vot(;s  in  the  choice  of  a  sup<;rvisor  for  the  schools.  George  I'eabody  spent 
most  of  his  life  in  Lonilon  ;  the  habits  of  his  life  were  those  of  a  banker  and  a 
financier.  lUit,  all  his  life  tlirou;;h,  hv.  loved  his  country,  and  he  believed  in  the 
principles  on  which  the  constitution  of  the  country  was  f(nind(;tl.  When  the 
time  came  for  th<i  disposition  of  his  great  fortune,  he  was  in  touch  with  men  of 
intelligence  who  knew  the  country  better  than  he  did,  antl  he  was  able,  tlu-refore, 
to  make  the  magnit'icent  gifts  which  Ik;  made  for  ('ilucation,  for  hospitals,  and 
fir  the  right  stutly  of  history.  He  is  to  be  remembered,  therefore,  as  one  of 
the  real  benefactors  of  .\merica,  with  just  as  much  gratitude  as  if  hv.  hail 
served  her  in  diplomacy,  in  Congress,  or  on  the  bench.  And  that  man  is  a  very 
careless  reader  who  does  not  see  that  William  Lloyd  Garrison,  quite  outside  of 
the  administration  of  governnKMit,  became  a  mow.  important  factor  in  the  con- 
trol of  the  history  of  this  country,  than  many  of  those  persons  who  occupied 
high  official  positions.  Indeed,  th(i  young  reader  should  observe  that  many  of 
those  persons  are  now  entirely  forgotten,  and  would  have  v.o  place  in  any  col- 
lection of  the  real  leaders  of  America. 

We  shall,  therefore,  be  v(;ry  much  disappointed  if  those  who  study  this  book 
do  not  learn  the  great  lesson  that  he  who  does  the  duty  ne.xt  his  hand,  serves, 
in  the  providence  of  God,  in  the  great  purpose  for  which  this  nation  e.xists,  if 
only  he  loyally  remember  that  he  is  a  citizen  of  the  nation  and  that  the  nation 
relies  upon  him.  Ale.sander  Hamilton  may  have  thought,  when  he  was  a  young 
man,  that  his  genius  was  thwarted  and  humified  by  the  mercantile  training  to 
which  he  was  bound.  Hut  it  proved  that  .Alexander  1  lamilton.  precisely  because 
he  had  a  knowledge  of  financial  and  mercantile  affairs,  was  the  person  on  whose 
life  the  credit  of  the  nation  depended,  in  the  great  adjustment  of  its  finances  in 
the  administration  of  Washington.  George  Washington  himself  may  well  have 
thought  that  in  the  monotonous  services  which  he  rendered,  as  one  of  the  House 
of  Hurgesses  in  \'irginia,  he  was  throwing  away  abilities  which  deserved  a  nobler 
field.     But  in   time  the  nobler  field  was  opened,  and  it  proved  that  George 


lo  INTRODUCTION. 

Washinj^fton  had  been  j^ainini^  that  knowledge  of  men.  and  of  the  way  to  handle 
men,  which  was  all-important  fur  his  coinitry  when  he  (entered  upon  his  ^rc.it 
career.  ( >f  eveiy  person  whose  life  is  descrilti'd  here,  the  same  could  be  saiil. 
'Ihey  were  "faithful  in  a  f('W  things,  "  and  bt.-cause  tiu^y  were  faithful  there  was 
j^iven  them  the  rule  of  i;reat  thin,t,'^s.  Henry  Clay,  with  a  marvelous  |L,Mft  of 
eloijuence  and  with  a  careful  preparation  for  the  bar,  had  at  the  same  time  made 
the  lar;;er  study  of  the  American  people,  lie  knew  what  it  was  antl  what  it 
was  n(jt.  He  knew  wiiat  it  needed,  anil  he  forecast  its  th-stiny.  Precisely 
because  he  understood  this  p(;ople  bettttr  than  diil  most  of  the  okler  men  who 
were  around  him,  he  became,  one  may  say,  their  id(jl.  and  he  was  able  to  render 
service  to  his  country  which  no  closet-student,  traintnl  simply  in  tin;  methods  of 
older  dynasties,  coukl  ever  have  done.  In  an  entirely  ditfert-nt  line  of  life,  the 
same  is  true  of  Andrew  Jackson.  Precisely  because  he  did  not  trammel  him- 
self with  prec<;dent  or  conditions,  which  ev(.'n  to  a  well-trained  lawyer  may  have 
setMiied  important, — because,  on  the  other  hand,  in  the  ditticulties  of  frontier 
warfare  he  had  accustom(-'d  himself  to  look  at  the  national  life,  from  a  broad 
and  at  the  same  time  practical  point  of  view, — he  saved  the  constitution  when 
the  constitution  was  really  endangered. 


Tims  book  will  fall  into  the  hantls  of  clubs  and  schools,  for  study  more 
careful  than  is  involved  in  one  superficial  reading.  In  introducing  it  to  readers 
who  study  it,  I  make  one  suggestion,  of  which  I  hope  they  will  try  the  value  ; 
they  will  fmd  similar  suggestions  made,  with  some  detail  of  illustration,  more 
than  once  in  Miss  Hdgeworth's  admirable  suggestions  for  education.  Let  any 
group  of  readers  cultivate  the  habit  of  impersonating,  if  they  please,  the  char- 
acters whose  lives  interest  them  in  American  history,  and  bringing  these  people 
together  for  imaginary  conversations,  for  common  action,  in  such  scenes  and  at 
such  times  as  history  will  justify.  Imaginary  conversations,  such  as  Madame 
de  Genlis  suggests  ;  imaginary  correspondence,  such  as  even  classical  writers 
were  amused  with,  will  prove  not  oidy  amusing  but  of  permanent  value  in  giving 
a  vivid  sense  of  the  life  of  older  times.  Better  yet,  perhaps,  for  the  purpose 
of  maintaining  the  life  antl  interest  of  a  club  or  society  of  readers,  would  be 
the  dramatic  representation,  in  a  parlor  or  a  school-room,  of  scenes  such  as 
bright  pupils  would  imagine,  which  shall  introduce  several  of  the  great  men  or 
women  of  whom  they  read. 

Thus,  there  is  a  curious  home  letter  from  a  private  soldier  in  Braddock's 
army,  which  makes  it  well-nigh  certain  that  I'ranklin,  at  the  age  of  forty-nine, 
met  Washington  wh(m  he  was  but  twenty-three,  as  Bradtlock's  army  advanced 
toward  its  ruin.  It  would  be  easy,  in  some  parlor  theatricals,  to  represent  the 
scene,  to  bring  in  these  two  men  who  were  unconscious  of  their  future  greatness, 


IXTRODi'CTION.  n 

to  surround  iIkmii  with  such  fij^furcs  as  those  of  Hracldock  ami  C'lajLje  and  Morris, 
and  in  dialt).L;u(:  or  in  pantoininit:  to  interest  the  whole  company.  A  ^.\au-  thus 
fixc'il.  a  transaction  thus  niaile  real,  take  their  places  in  memory,  ami,  as  an  okl 
frieml  says,  "j^nve  sonK.-lhini,'  to  knit  upon  "  as  one  wo  ks  out  his  own  fabric  of 
history. 

When  tin-  Revolutionary  War  bei,fan,  cvciry  iiiuoiUrc  hctwcni  the  soldiirs 
of  I'.n^^Iand  and  tiiosc  of  America  brought  peopU;  to^jether  in  such  (hMinatic 
fashion.  When  ( ia:;(!  addressed  Washini^ton  and  \\'ashin!:,'ton  replied  to  liini, 
parted  only  iiy  the  Charles  River,  it  was  with  recoili-clions  of  the  time  when  they 
sat  at  the  same  mess  tal)le.  wlu.-n  they  copied  th(!  same  despatcii,  as  they  both 
served  on  liutstatfof  Uraddock.  W'lien  I'ranklin  met  Lord  1  Iow(t,  in  1770,  it 
was  tore-call  th('  UKMUory  of  'low  they  had  played  cIk.'ss  toL;eiher  in  London. 
When  Clinton  sailed  into  New  \'ork,  aft'-r  his  repulsi-  at  Charleston,  it  was  to 
show  to  the  youui^er  ot'hcers  the  streets  and  homes  of  the  town  where  lie  had 
spent  iiis  boyhooil,  in  which,  probably,  hi;  was  mf)re  at  hoiiK;  th.m  \\v.  vas  in 
LtHnlon.  perhaps,  indeed,  when  he  passeil  the  buriali^^round  by  Kind's  Cl;apel 
in  Boston  some  one  took  pains  to  point  out  to  him  the;  Ljrave  of  his  relaiive, 
Isaac  Johns(Mi,  Arbella  lohnson's  husband,  who  had  come  frfun  the  family  'loine 
in  ljiL,dand,  which  Clinton  must  have  rememberi-il  well.  Indeed,  an  accurate 
reatler  could  brini,^  toj^a'ther  JeffiTson,  Jay,  and  Adams,  in  more  than  one  imagin- 
ary colloi[uy,  which  would  fix  in  tht;  memory  of  all  who  saw  those  characters 
well  presenteil  the  various  contributions  which  such  men  maile,  for  weal  or  for 
woe,  to  the  proj^^ress  of  the  nation.  The  contrast  of  the  fanfaronad*'  and  love 
of  i,dory  of  I'aul  Jones,  a_i,fainst  the  drollery  and  simplicity  of  branklin,  and  the 
half-concealed  annoyance  of  John  Adams,  mi^ht  make  a  very  amusin,<^  scen<;  in 
such  a  performance  as  I  hav(;  su^_i(ested.  It  is  not  so  easy  to  imai^ini;  Henry 
Clay  in  London,  arrani^nuL,''  with  (jeorj^e  I'eabotly  how  h<!  may  ilraw  for  mom^y. 
Hut  such  men  never  met  but  that  each  of  them  affected  the;  life  of  the  other. 

I  v(;nture  to  rc.-commend  to  all  clubs  or  societies  of  yountj  people  who  read 
this  book  toi^-'ether,  that  they  try  some  such  impersonations,  which  will  brinj^ 
history  in  visible  form  before  them.  The  preparations  will  l)e  in  some  regards 
more  difficult,  in  somi;  more  easy,  than  they  think  at  first.  Hut  it  may  well  be 
that  they  shall  fintl,  in  many  instance's,  that  they  are  workini^^  u}>  somt;  iletail  of 
the  local  history  ot  .tlv'«.pl;\cei  ii^i  yhicli.  they  live,  which  would  otherwise  have 
been  neiL,dected  and  uve>ltu;tllv;*foru^ott<.n.  .  \nd  such  students  shoidd  remember 
that  there!.' fna'ny  an  attic";  xyliich  is  yet  to'  f,'ive  up  its  store  of  old  papers  of 
jj^reat  valiio  iii  the  workiniV[o'nt  oi  our  history. 

It  is  s^eneralLy  sajd,' hntd  It  is  ti^uo,  -that  thus  far  America  has  not  di;veloped, 
or  at  least  has  not  shown,  much  power  in  th<;  writing-  of  entertaining-  memoirs. 
For  the  history  of  the  Revolution  the  most  vivid  local  color  is  supplied  by  those 
bright,  accomplished  young  Frenchmen,  to  whom  everything  was  a  surprise,  and 


12 


INTRODUCTION. 


who,  therefore,  wrote  clown  what  our  own  fathers  thoui;,rht  a  matter  of  course 
and  ''"ft  f(jr  for^fetfiihiess.  The  gaps  in  our  history,  which  are  left  by  the  inabil- 
ity of  the  fatliers  to  write  entertainini^f  memoirs,  must  bi;  supplied  now  from 
their  ledgers  and  day-lx)oks  anil  from  the  old  correspondence,  when  by  good 
fortune  it  has  been  preserved.  What  tht;  artists  call  "  local  color,"  and  the  vivid- 
ness which  is  given  by  what  they  call  "broken  lights,"  may  often  improve  ouf 
historical  picture,  if  contributed  by  some  antiquarian  student  who  works  with 
imagination.  I  canncjt  but  hopt;  that,  by  the  wide  circulation  of  this  very  book, 
there  may  be  roused  up  some  young  Parkman  or  Prescott  or  Bancroft,  who  shall 
be  tempteil  to  make  the  researches  which  will  bring  to  light  memoranda  of  use, 
because  of  interest,  in  the  construction  of  the  history  of  the  republic. 

Edward  Everett  Hale. 


4.*;x 


J 

— -J 


MONUMENT   TO   COLLMIIUS   AT   GKNOA. 


LIST  OF  CHAPTERS  AND  SUBJECTS. 


BOOK    I. 

(Bhwi  Jfouitbcrs  of  tj.u  Jicpublic. 


GEORGE  WASHINGTON,                                          p^^b 
Father  ano   Founder   ok   the   Rnniuic, 33 

Greatness  of  Washington's  character — Virginia  two  centuries  ago — Augustine  Washington — George's 
early  days — His  mother — The  young  surveyor — A  perilous  journey — llraddock's  expedition — Washing- 
ton's heroism — Marr:agc — Outbreak  of  the  Revolution — Bombardment  of  Boston — Battle  of  Long  Island 
— "  How  long  shall  we  tly  ?  " — New  Jersey  campaign — A  Christmas  surprise — Aid  from  France — Lafayette 
— Valley  Forge — Monmouth — Dark  Days — Arnold's  treason — The  war  in  the  South — Washington's 
descent  upon  Yorktown — Surrender  of  Cornwallis — Farewell  to  the  army — Constitutional  Convention — 
First  President  of  the  Republic — Anecdotes  of  Washington — Last  days  at  Mount  Vernon — The  closing 
scene. 

BENJAMIN    FRANKLIN, 
The  Inventor,  Fhilosopher,  and  Statesman 59 

A  self-made  man — Franklin's  autobiography — H'.s  character  as  a  boy — His  love  of  books — The  young 
vegetarian — Writing  for  the  newspaper — Journey  to  Philadelphia — First  sight  of  his  future  wife — 
Employment  as  a  printer — Journey  to  England — A  temperance  missionary — Another  start  in  busi- 
ness— The  Junto — The  secret  of  his  success — He  marries  Miss  Read — "  Poor  Richard's  Almanack" — 
Defense  of  the  Colonies — Franklin  in  demand — Postmaster-General — The  War  with  France — How 
Franklin  secured  wagons — His  mission  to  England — The  Stamp  Act — How  to  lose  revenue  and  gain 
ill-will — A  sum  in  arithmetic — The  Continental  Congress — Signing  the  Declaration  of  Independence 
—A  grim  joke — Franklin  at  Paris — I  lis  humane  efforts  to  lessen  the  hor.-Dri  of  war — The  Treaty  of 
Peace — Return  to  Philadelphia — Letter  to  Thomas  Paine — Franklin's  death  and  burial — His  epitaph. 

JOHN    ADAMS, 

The  Revoi.utionart  I'atriot  and  Statesman, 75 

The  great  men  of  the  Revolution — The  pre-eminence  of  Adams — Boyhood  and  education — The  young 
lawyer — Marriage — Aggressions  of  the  British — The  birth  of  American  Independence — The  Boston 
Massacre — Adams  defends  the  soldiers — Delegate  to  th«  Continental  Congress — Friendship  with  Jef- 
ferson— Drafting  the  Declaration  of  Independence — Adams's  prophetic  lettei — Sent  to  France  to  secure 
aid — Contrast  with  Franklin — Adams  not  popular — His  blunt  manners — Negotiating  the  Treaty  of 
Peace — Adams's  success  with  the  Dutch  Government — His  sickness  in  Paris — Terrible  winter  journey 
— Minister  to  England — His  presentation  at  Court — An  awkward  moment — Return  to  America — The 
Constitutional  Convention — Adams's  dislike  of  France— I-Hection  to  the  Presidency — His  failure  to 
make  friends— Retirement  from  public  life — Adams  in  old  age — His  son's  election  to  the  presidency— 
Nearing  the  end— July  4,  1826,  death  of  Adams  and  Jefferson. 

13 


14  LIST  OF  CHAPTERS  AND  SUBJECTS. 

JOHN   JAY, 

The  First  Chief  Justice  of  the  Unitf.d  States, 93 

Jay's  French  Ancestry — DifTercnt  kinds  of  heroism — Life  in  rollege — Refuses  to  be  an  informer — Studyinjj 
law — Member  of  the  Continental  Congress — Address  to  the  peojjlc  of  (Ireat  Britain — I'resident  of  Con- 
gress— Chosen  Minister  to  Spain — Trials  of  his  new  position — Begging  and  borrowing  for  America — 
The  Treaty  of  I'aris — Return  to  America — Secretary  of  State — The  Constitutional  Convention — Jay's 
important  part — "The  Federalist" — Its  masterly  ability — Washington's  testimony  to  Jay's  ability — The 
first  Chief  Justice — His  opposition  to  slavery — S|)ecial  mission  to  Kngland — Jay's  ability  as  a  diplo- 
matist— Lord  Sheffield's  opinion — "The  impolitic  treaty  of  1794" — Jay's  return  to  America — Governor 
of  New  York — Retirement  from  public  life — His  death  in  1829 — Jay's  spotless  character. 

ALEXANDER    HAMILTON, 

Tmk   AKtHri'Ecr  of  xiik    1'"eoer\l   Svsiem joi 

What  a  West  India  hurricane  did  for  Hamilton — (loes  to  the  United  States  for  an  education — Stories  of 
his  life  at  college — Kxcitement  over  British  exactions — Hamilton's  first  speech — Aid-de-camp  to  Wash- 
ington— His  literary  ability — Financial  studies — Marriage — Retirement  from  the  army — The  Constitu- 
tional Convention— The  great  men  who  composed  it — Hamilton's  pre-eminence — Opposition  to  the 
Constitution — Hamilton's  able  advocacy — Suspense  in  New  York — Success  at  last — Hamilton  first 
Secretary  of  the  Treasury — His  able  administration— Talleyrand's  anecdote — Retirement — Political 
disputes — The  fatal  duel. 

THOMAS   JEFFERSON, 

The  Pioneer  of  Democracy  in  America, 115 

Jefferson's  sympathy  with  the  common  people — The  success  of  his  principles — His  \'irginia  home — The 
young  lawyer — His  opinions  on  slavery — Marriage  to  Mrs.  Skelton — Sent  to  the  Continental  Congress 
— Writing  the  Declaration  of  Independence — Cornwatlis's  depredations — Jefferson's  losses — End  of  the 
war — Appointment  as  Foreign  Minister — His  popularity  in  France — Secretary  of  State  under  Washing- 
ton— Stormy  politics — Jefferson  and  Hamilton  opposed — Vice-President  under  Adams — Washington 
City  in  1800— Mrs.  Adams'  amusing  account — The  election  of  1800 — Jefferson  chosen  I'lesl  jent — Dis- 
may of  the  Federalists — Sweeping  success  of  Democratic  principles — The  purchase  of  Louisiana — 
Death  of  his  daughter — Comfort  from  the  Bible — Re-election — Troubles  with  England — Return  to 
private  life — His  habits  of  life  at  home — Extensive  hospitality — Jefferson's  religion — Financial  troubles 
— Gifts  from  friends — The  last  scene,  July  4,  1826. 


BOOK   II. 

6i;int  '^uilkrs  of  (Dur  Pinion. 


ANDREW   JACKSON, 

The  Hero  of  the  War  of  1S12,  and  Popular  President, 131 

Why  Jackson  is  remembered — His  strong  individuality — Wretchedness  of  his  early  life — Cruelties  of  the 
British  in  South  Carolina — Studying  law — Removal  to  Tennessee — Wild  life  on  the  Frontier — Marriage 
under  peculiar  circumstances — Early  political  life — Duels  with  Dickenson  and  Benton — War  with  the 
Indians — The  Great  Battle  of  Horse-Shoe  Bend — Attacks  of  the  British  on  New  Orleans — Jackson's 
glorious  defense — .\wful  slaughter  of  the  British — Honors  to  Jackson — The  Seminole  War — United 
States  Senator — Election  to  the  Presidency  in  1828 — Death  of  his  wife — His  memorable  administration 
^-SuiTerings  of  his  later  life — His  death  in  184J. 


LIST  OF  CJfAPT/iRS  AND  SUBJECTS.  15 

PAI.H 

Thk  Skciinu  Wak  o:    iNnr.iKNiu  ni.k,  or  nil.  \\'ai<  or  1.S12 144 

Mean  in;;  of  the  w.ir-Its  causes — Neutral  rights — Iinprcssiii^'  American  sailnrs — Insults  and  outia^'es — The 
"  Chesapeake  "  and  the  "  l-eopaid  " — Injury  to  American  commerce — Paper  hiockailes — The  <  )rder.->  in 
Council — I'mhar^o  as  retaliation — Our  naval  t;lory  in  this  war — Failure  of  the  canipai','n  ai;ai'Vji 
Canada — Hull's  surrender  at  Detroit — Splendid  victories  at  sea — The  "  Constitution  "  and  the  "  (aier- 
riere  " — The  "Wasp"  and  the  "  Frolic  "—Other  sca-duels— American  i'rivateers — On  the  I.ake-- — 
I'erry's  great  victory — Land  operations — lialtle  of  the  Thames — Wilkinson's  Fiasco — The  "  Shannon  " 
and  the  "  Ches  ipe  ike  " — I'-iV-.di-'ii  reinforcements — Lundy's  Fine  and  I'lattslxir:^ — The  buriunj  of 
Washington — lialtimore  saved — (General  Jackson  at  New  Orleans — The  treaty  of  peace. 

JOHN    QUINCY    ADAMS, 

TllK    ACCOMI'I.ISIIF.D    rKI.MDKNr,  AND    (jRKAl     DkI  KNDKk    Ol     THE    RiUll  1'   Of    PKriTlON-.    .    l6l 

Adams  not  a  "self-made  man" — Ills  ciiCcUent  c(|uipnient — To  I'.uiope  at  eleven  )ears  of  a;^'e — At 
school  abroad — I'rivate  Secre'.ary  to  the  Russian  Minister — Studies  at  the  Hague — Honors  at  Harvard 
— Studying  law — Minister  to  the  Netherlands — Washington's  high  praise — Love  and  marriage — L'niteJ 
States  Senator — -Professor  at  Harvard — Mis-iion  to  Russia — The  Fiiiperor's  tact — Minister  to  England — 
Secretary  of  Slate — Illected  President — Attacks  un  Adams — His  manners  contrasted  with  those  of  Jack- 
son—  l!:lef  retirement — The  ex-President  goes  to  the  House  of  Representatives — The  right  of  peti- 
tion— Stormy  scenes  in  llie  House — "1  will  put  the  cpiestion  niy-.elf  " — Honors  to  a  veteran — Mr. 
Adams's  simple  prayer — "This  is  the  last  of  earth  " — Death  of  the  patriot  statesman, 

HENRY    CLAY, 

PoiTIAU    illki).     I'Alklor,    AND    SlXM.-MAN I77 

Slaverv — An  overshadowing  (iue>tion — Lla\'s  devotion  to  the  I'nioii  —  lli->  poi)u'iant> — Stories  of  liii  i)oy- 
hood — "The  Mill  Hoy  of  the  Slashes" — A  clerk  in  Riciimond — H;>  personal  appearance — His  inagnili- 
cent  voice — Removal  to  KeiitiH  ky — Success  as  a  lawyer — Hi.-,  inaniage — Menil)er  of  the  House  of 
Representatives — Clay's  advocacy  of  the  war  of  1S12 — does  to  lairope — "I  liked  the  Kentucky  man 
best" — Speaker  of  tlie  Hou-ie — Popularity  with  the  masses — The  admission  of  Mi.-.souri — The  Missouri 
Compromise — Clay's  great  iniluence — Jackson's  hatred  of  Clay — Clay  makes  ,\dams  President — Cry  of 
corrupt  bargain — Secretary  of  State — Returns  to  private  life — Re-election  to  tiie  Senate — The  nuUit'ica- 
tion  troubles — Clay's  compromise  tariff — The  |ianic  of  1837 — Harrison's  nomination  and  Clay's  tli-^ap- 
poimment — Ciiief  of  the  Whigs— -I'tiends  discharge  his  debts — Clay's  compromise  measures  of  1S50 — • 
His  fiiling  health— The  country  in  danger — Clay's  devotion — H13  last  great  sjieech — Ueiuinciatiun  of 
disunion — His  death — The  object  of  his  public  life. 

DANIEL    WEBSTER, 

'I'ilK    llKlKNl'K.k    OK    NArioNAL    F'nION, I93 

Memorable  scene  in  Congress — The  "  Reply  to  Hayne  " — The  great  work  done  by  Webster  for  the  L'nion 
— .\  New  Hampshire  boy — Characteristic  stories  of  his  e.irly  life — Family  sacrifices  for  education- 
Studying  law — His  imposing  presence — (ireat  ability  as  a  lawyer — Description  of  his  argument  in  the 
famous  Diitmouth  College  case — The  Plymouth  Rock  oration — Mr.  Ticknor's  account — The  "  Rej)ly 
to  Hayne" — Mr.  lu'erett's  anxiety— Description  of  the  scene  in  the  Sen.ite — Welister's  splendid 
uiumph — Secretary  of  State — The  annex.ition  of  Texa.-^ — The  compromise  of  1850 — Webster's  "  7th  of 
M  u'h  S|)ecch" — .Mienation  of  frieniN— His  .Marshlield  liome— Injury  and  ill  he.Uth— His  death-bed— « 
I'athelic  scenes  at  his  funeral — His  resting-place. 

JOHN    C.    CALHOUN  , 

TiiF.  (ikiAi'  .Aiivoc'A  IK  Of  SrATi-;  Rniiiis 207 

A  question  of  history — Calhoun's  character  ami  iniluence — His  birth  and  ancestry — Early  Demorratlc 
o()inion.s — Member  of  Legisl.iture  and  Congress — Secretary  of  War — \'ice-l'resideiu  under  Ad.ims  and 
Jackson — I'lie  "  Tariif  of  Abominations" — Calhoun's  argument  for  nullitk.ation — The  great  debate-* 

2 


i6  LIST  01'  CHAPTERS  AM)  Si'TJ/iCTS. 

Hayne's  speech  and  Webster's  reply^The  ordinance  of  nulliiic.ition— Jackson's  proclamation — South 
Carolina  calls  out  her  soldiers — ^I'lie  conflict  avoided — Clay's  compromise  tarjlf — C.ilhoun's  defense  of 
slavery— Miss  Martineau's  reminiscences — I'lie  contest  of  1S50 — Calhoun's  last  days. 

SAMUEL    HOUSTON, 

PAGI 

Anm)   iHK  Story  oi    Tiaan  iNiJi'.i'KNDr.NCF: 217 

The  new  race  of  statesmen — Houston's  early  life  in  Virginia— "  Over  the  Mountains  into  Tennessee"— 
Life  among  the  Indians— A  soldier  under  Jackson — Study  of  law — Elected  llovernor  of  Tennessee— 
His  marriage — The  event  which  changetl  hi^>  life — A  mystery — Again  among  the  Indian^ — Houston 
abandons  civili/ed  life — Watching  events  in  Mexico — Settleis  from  the  I'niteii  Slates — Their  hatred 
of  Mexican  rule — Houston  |oins  fortunes  with  Texans — Massacres  of  the  Al.iino  .uul  doliail — Texas 
declares  her  independence — The  battle  of  San  Jacinto — "  Remember  the  Alamo" — Freedom  for  Texas — 
Houston's  sc'-ciid  marriage— Annexation  of  Texas — (iovernor  and  L'nited  States  Senator — The  era  of 
Secession — Houston's  devotion  to  the  L'nion — An  amusing  practical  illustration — Houston  deposed  from 
the  Governorship— His  death  in  1863. 


BOOK    III. 

(!3i;uiis  of  i\)t  (Tibil  M:\x. 


ABRAHAM    LINCOLN, 

'I'm.  rursKuvKK  ok   iiii;  I'nion', 229 

Lincoln's  increasing  fame — Comparison  with  Washington — His  birth  in  1S09 — Wretchedness  of  his  early 
life — The  poor  whites  of  Kentucky— His  mother's  intluence^I.incoln's  odd  appearance  as  a  back- 
woodsman— His  love  of  study — Scarcity  of  books — "  Speechifying" — Removal  to  Illinois — Kindliness 
to  a  worthless  dog — The  slave  auction  at  New  Orleans — "  If  I  ever  gel  a  chance  to  hit  slavery,  I  will  hit  it 
hatd  "—Studying  surveying— The  yoimg  politician — His  practice  of  law — His  marriage — Elected 
Representative  to  Congress — His  opposition  to  slavery — His  famous  debates  with  Douglas — "  If  he 
gives  that  answer,  he  can  never  be  President  "—The  Cooper  Institute  speech — The  campaign  of  186a — 
Intense  excitement — The  Chicago  convention— Seward's  ailvantages— The  surprise  of  Lincoln's 
nomination — His  triumphant  election — I'athetic  farewell  to  Springfield — Threats  of  Secession — Firing 
on  Sumter — Great  Success— Perplexities — The  dark  days  of  the  war — Lincoln's  wonderful  management 
of  men — The  emancipation  question — The  great  proclamation — Lincoln's  abilities  as  a  soldier  and 
diplomatist — His  caution — luid  of  the  \var^Tlie  great  tragedy — His  death  on  April  15th — Country  in 
mourning — The  solemn  funeral  procession — The  beauty  and  greatness  of  his  character. 

WILLIAM    H.    SEWARD, 

'I'm;    SlAIT>MA\    AND    I  )ll'I.OM  A  IIS  I' 353 

William  IL  Seward's  college  days — Ran  away  from  home — Enters  the  law — Receives  Lafayette — Governor 
of  .New  York — Contest  with  the  (iovernor  of  Virgini.i — Discards  wine  at  his  official  receptions — Refuses 
to  pardon  crimmals — Returns  to  jjractice  of  law— Ijiters  the  U.  S.  Senate  in  1848 — l-^xpected  the  nomi 
nation  for  President — Woiks  for  Lincoln's  election — Services  as  Secretary  of  State — Purchase  of  Alaska 
—Estimate  of  his  character — "  He  was  faithful." 

CHARLES    SUMNER, 

THK    CiKKAl'    .AmoCAlK    OK    I'KEF.DOM, 265 

Cultured  New  England  ancestors — Did  not  feel  the  pinch  of  poverty — School  and  college  life — Practices 
law  in  Boston — His  distinguished  friends — Spends  three  years  in  Europe — Receives  marked  attention  in 
England  " — .Musical  accomplishments — Practices  law  for  five  years — First  great  speech — "  That  picture 


LIST  01'  CHAPfERS  AND  ^CJ>JI:lTS.  i; 

made  me  Senator  " — I-'fiur  limns  speech  in  United  States  Senate — Turmoil  in  Congress — "The  Crime 
against  Kansas  " — Caned  l)y  IlrooUs — Kcliirns  to  the  Senate— His  radii  al  position  —  Tsefulness  during 
the  war —Lincoln  and  Siuiiner — His  opinion  of  President  Johnson — Strained  relations  with  Grant — 
Personal  peculiarities — Character. 

ULYSSES    S.    GRANT. 

PA(>R 

'illF.    ill  ko    111      IIIK    ClMI.    WaI-, 277 

A  man  for  the  occasion — The  day  of  heroes  not  past — Lite  before  the  war — 1 1  is  graduation  at  West  Point — 
Services  in  the  Mexican  War— The  Missouri  farmer — Stories  of  his  boyhood— His  love  for  horses — A 
boKl  ilash  at  Monterey- Lincoln's  opinion — "Wherever  Cirant  is,  things  move" — "A  very  obstinate 
man  ' — Brigadier  Cieneral- -First  b.ittle — "We  must  cut  our  way  out  a>  we  cut  our  way  in" — "All 
quiet  on  the  Potomac" — Attack  on  I'orls  Henry  and  Donelson — "  I'nconditional  Surrender  " — The  I-  irst 
gre.it  victory — Battle  of  Shiloh — I'lie  first  day's  lighting — -The  tiile  turns  on  the  second  ilay  —  Denuncia- 
tions of  (ir.iiit — The  autumn  of  186: — Depression  in  the  North — Grant's  determination  to  win  a  vic- 
tory—The \'icksburg  campaign — A  ha^.irdous  movement — The-  long  siege — Surrender — A  glorious 
Fourth  of  July — Lincoln's  acknowledgment — Narrow  escajie  in  New  Orleans— A  new  command — 
Chattanooga — Lookout  Mountain  and  Missionary  Ridge — A  glorious  victory — Call  for  Grant  to  lead 
the  armies — The  Virginia  (  ampaign  —  Battles  of  the  Wilderness— Spottsylvania— Cold  ILuhor — Lincoln's 
impression — "Not  a  retre.iting  m.m  " — Closing  in  on  Ric  hmoiid — Sherman's  march — Grant's  letter  to 
Lee — The  surrender  at  Appomattox — After  the  war — lilection  to  the  Presidency— His  administration — 
Re-election  —  Retirement — His  Journey  arountl  the  world — A  triumphal  ])rogress — Business  misfortunes 
— His  "  Personal  Memoirs  " — Fighting  otT  death — The  nation's  sympathy — Ravages  of  disease — Death 
at  Mt.  McGregor — The  tribute  of  the  nation. 

The  Skirv  or  the  Civil  W'ak 295 

Secession— Not  exclusively  a  Southern  itlea — .-\n  irrepressible  conllict — Coming  events — Lincoln — A  nation 
in  arms — Sumter — .Anderson — .McClellan — Victory  and  defeat— Monitor  and  Merrimac — Antietam — 
Shiloh— Bucll — Grant — George  H.  Thomas — Rosecrans — Porter — Sherman — Sheridan  —  Lee  —  Gettvs- 
burg — .\  great  fight — Sherman's  m.irch — The  Confederates  weakening — More  victories — Appomattox — 
Lee's  surrender — From  svar  to  peace — etc.,  etc. 

WILLIAM    T.    SHERMAN, 

The  Hi.Nn  m-    \i\v.  "  NL\rch  'lo  ihe  Sea," 317 

Memorable  events  of  the  Civil  war — Sherman's  early  days — "Take  Cump,  Mr.  l-.wing  " — Life  at  West 
Point — .\t  Fort  Moultrie — Marriage — Hanking  in  California— Superintendent  of  the  New  Orleans  Mili- 
tary Academy — Breaking  out  of  the  war— President  Lincoln's  views — Bull  Run — Shiloh—"  He  fights 
by  the  week "— .\t  Chattanooga — Capture  of  Atlanta — Starting  on  the  great  march— The  day  of 
jubilee- .\  Christmas  gift  of  Savannah— Lnd  of  the  war — The  grand  review— Study  of  Sherman's 
campaigns  in  England— Life  after  the  war. 

GEORGE    B.McCLELLAN. 

FiRSr    ('OMMAMUR    OK     THE    .\R.\1V    OE     I  HE    I'oiOMAC 329 

McClellan's  great  abilities — Birth  and  education — Fine  military  training — Early  days  of  die  war— His  suc- 
cess in  West  Virginia — The  army  of  the  Potomac — The  Peninsula  campaign— Obstacles  to  success— 
Stanton's  contempt — A  terrible  emergency— Confidence  in  "  Little  ^Lu:  " — Antietam— A  great  victory — 
McClellan  relieved— His  popularity— Lee's  opinion— I'ersonal  tpialities. 

PHILIP    H.    £,  HERIDAN, 

The  Hero  ok  the  "  \  ai  lev  C'a.mi'AI(;n," 335 

Sheridan's  victories— His  ability  to  inspire  his  men— Boyhood  days— Premature  war  at  West  Point— The 
Great  Rebellion— Chattanooga  and  Lookout  Mountain— Grant's  confidence— The  Valley  campaign— 


i8  LIST  OF  CHAPTERS  AXD  SUIiJIiCTS. 

Early  sent  "whirling  throii,';h  \Vinc!ie^,ter  "—;"im  in  Richmor.il  at  il.uly's  expense— Cedar  Creek— A 
surprise— "  Face  the  other  way,  boys!  ■'—Turnin;;  defeat  ii-.t!)  victory  Destruction  of  Early's  army- 
Five  Fork's — Lee's  surrender— Custer's  tribute— Sheridan's  personal  iniliience— Life  after  the  war. 

GEORGE    G.    MEADE, 

PAr.B 

\ii  lOKKjcs  (!()MManI)i:k  at  (ii  11  \ -i;ik( 343 

A  LTitical  (lay- Tlic  invadinjj  army  of  Lee— Climax  of  the  battle  — I'he  last  tremendous  ill'ort  of  the  Con- 
federate Army— I'icketi's  famous  char^'o— A  storm  of  gripesliot  from  Cemetery  llill— Meade's  great 
victory — Thank-,  of  Congress— Sul)sec|ueiU  movements  in  \'ir<,'inia—i '.rant's  contidence  in  Meade — The 
gratitude  of  the  nation— Colonel  M  iCiuic's  tuln-y— M-.ule  the  unrewarded  hero. 

GEORGE    H.    THOMAS, 

Tin:  CiKi  A!'  (ii.Ni;!.:  \i,  i\    nii:   \\'\k   ink  mi,   I'siov, -54^ 

Tne  ideal  soldier — Graduation  at  West  I'oint— liieaking  out  of  tlie  w  11  -Mill  Sprint;  ;'.nd  Muifrcesboro — 
The  battle  of  Chickain.iuga— Longstreet's  advance— A  desperate  encounter— "  The  Rock  of  Chicka- 
mauga  "—Battle  of  Chattanooga— I'homas  storms  Missimiary  Ridge— The  battle  of  Na>hville— 
Thomas's  deliberation— A  splendid  triumpli— 1 'hoina>'=   modesty —Mis  line  character— Death  in  iS;o. 

ROBERT    E.    LEE, 

Tur.   dklA!'    CnMMWDKk    O/     llli;    ( 'oM  l.lilk  \  I  K    AkMIK- 355 

Lee's  acknowledged  greatness- His  life  before  the  war— His  devolicm  to  Virginia— Uilticulty  in  deciding 
on  his  C(r.u-,e — Resigns  his  ci)mmi-,-.ioii  —  I'repare-,  the  Souliiern  |)eople  for  a  long  and  bloodv  war — 
His  great  inlliience— The  simplicity  of  his  habits— He  shares  the  fare  of  the  soldiers— Story  of  a 
campaign  dinner—'  1  je.-,t  borrowed  d  at  piece  o'  meat "— IJclVat  of  M.Clellan  on  the  peninsula- Tri- 
umphs at  Fredericksburg  and  Chancellor^ville—C.ettysburg— Superiority  of  thi;  North  in  resources— 
A  (pio>tion  of  endurance— The  campaign  of  1S64— Lee's  superior  skill  — Destitution  of  his  annv- 
The  inevitible  end— Surrender  at  Appomattox — Ciratitude  and  affection  of  the  South— Oilers  of  a  home 
— Hecomes  President  of  Washington  College— Beauty  of  his  private  character— His  great  inlluence  in 
restoring  good  feeling — Dovution  to  his  invalitl  wife — Death  in  1870. 

THOMAS  JONATHAN   JACKSON, 

I'm.  (iki-.Ar  ('(INI  KiiKkA  I  F.  (".  e;ni;kai., -560 

His  birth  and  education— Honors  won  in  the  Mexican  war— Professor  in   the  X'irginia  Militarv  Institute 

His   peculiar   conscientiousness — I'lie   seces>ion    of  Virginia— In    command    at  Harper's  Ferrv Th.e 

"Stonewall  Brigade  "—Origin  of  the  name— Wounded  at  Bull  Run— Waiting  for  his  turn  — Brilliant 
warfare  of  1863  — Fredericks1)uig— The  movement  at  Chancellorsville— Jackson  mortally  wounded— 
Personal  characteristics  — His  dependence  on  prayer  — I'ather  Hubert's  tribute. 


BOOK     I\'. 

6i;nits  of  tijc  :]lnunc;iii  Jlibii. 


JOHN    PAUL  JONES. 

'riiK  Fiksr  Ilkkii  or  Oik  N'avv  .  .    .  -.-, 

Oil 

The  origin  of  ihe  .\merican  n.avy— John  I'aul  Jones  and  his  famous  victory— Sights  on  guns  and  what  they 

did— Suppressing  the  Barbary  pirates— 1  )pening  Japan  — Port  Royal  — i'assing  the  forts— The  "  M,>nitor  " 

and  "Merrimac"— In  Mobile  Bay— The  "  Kearsarge  "  and  the  "  Alabama  "—Wual  architecture  revo- 

lutionized— rhe  Samoan  Hurricane — Building  a  new  navy. 


LIST  OF  CHAITJ:RS  A\D  smj/iCTS.  19 

OLIVER    H.    PERRY, 

PAr.B 

III  NO  (II    nil.  Uamm:  m    I.akk  1-',k:i: 397 

Perry's  fame  as  a  naval  commander — lioyhnod  and  education— His  mother's  inlluence— "  Mrs.  Terry's 
victory  " — Knters  tlie  navy  as  a  midshipman — dreat  ability  in  traininj; — The  war  of  i8i; — Tlie  conllict 
on  the  lakes — Tlie  hiiiidinn  of  two  navies — The  battle  op  the  lake — A  splendid  victory — Perry's  imtnor> 
tal  messa^je — Honors  from  Con;,'ress. 

DAVID    G.     FARRAGUT. 

Till    (IkKAi    Inidn  Navai.  (.'ommanhkk 4o\ 

Admiral  Farrag'it's  fime — His  early  career — The  battle  in  \'alparaiso  harbor — The  New  Orleans  expedi- 
tion— Farra;;iit  bomli.irds  the  forts — Torpedoes  anil  lire  ships — Preparations  for  passing  the  forts — A 
mi^'htv  conilirt — \  scene  of  devastation  —  Farragut's  splendid  victory — Capture  of  New  Orleans — 
Operations  below  X'icksbiirjj — The  forts  in  Mobile  li.iy — Arrival  of  the  Confederate  ram  Tennessee — ■ 
Preparations  for  the  attack— A  ^reat  procession  of  war  vessels— Farragiit  in  the  ri,i;;;in-  of  the  Hart- 
ford—  Torpedoes — Sinking  of  the  "  Teciimseh  "— "  Damn  the  torpedoes,  go  ahead  "—Rammmg  iron 
dads  with  woorlcn  vessels — (lallant  flghtinL;  of  the  Hartford — "  Save  the  Admir.il  " — Surrender  of  the 
Confederate  tleet — Farragut's  indomitable  sjiirit — Wonderful  bravery  of  the  sailors — Welcome  at  New 
York. 


HOOK    V. 

(Slants  of  our  ^Vu-uiiitcb  (Tountrn. 

JAMES    A.    GARFIELD, 

Till.   M.vkivK   pRK-iiiKv  r 411 

The  long  summerof  iSSi — The  nation's  suspense — A  people's  love  for  Oarlield — Hise.ulydays — A  widow's 
son — His  love  of  books — The  young  carpenter — Life  on  the  canal  towpath— Faming  an  education — At 
Hiram  College — Williams  College — Doing  four  years'  work  in  two — Head  of  Hiram  College — The 
Civil  War— A  teacher-soldier — Fighting  in  Kentucky — Shiloh — The  battle  of  Chickamauga — Fleeted 
to  Congress — The  campaign  of  iRSo — -("".arfield's  victory — -Contest  with  Conkhng — The  assassin's  bullet 
— Weeks  of  sui'tering — The  end — Blaine's  tribute. 

SAMUEL   J  .    TILDEN  , 

Till".    C'iKl  Af    Rr.KlKM    CoVKUMlK 425 

The  contested  election  of  1S76 — Tilden's  patriotism — Boyhood  days  in  New  York — The  young  politician — 
Great  ability  as  a  lawyer — 'The  Flagg  case — Success  at  the  b.ir— A  great  fortune — The  Tweed  King — 
"  What  are  you  going  to  do  about  it?" — Unraveling  the  conspiracy — Tilden's  triumph — Ciovernor  of 
New  York — The  "  Canal  King  " — The  St.  Louis  Convention — l!nthusiasm  for'Tilden — 'The  famous  cam- 
paign— .V  doubtful  result — The  Electoral  Commission — .\  great  library — 'Tilden's  last  days. 

JAMES    G.BLAINE, 

Till.    I'RU.I.IANT    AM)    SCCLKssiri.    SlAlKsMAN 433 

After  the  war — .\  new  cra-Iilainc's  early  life — A  plucky  boy— Life  at  college — Teaching  in  Kentucky- 
Marriage — Work  among  the  blind— Removal  to  .Maine— lalitor  and  politician— Speaker  of  the  Maine 
Assembly- The  Chicago  Convention  of  1S60— Election  to  Congress — Lincoln's  friendshi|3 — After  the 
war— Speaker  of  the  House— The  era  of  scandal— .Vttacks  on  Hlaine— The  Convention  of  1876— In- 
gersolTs  sjiecch- The  "  Plumed  Knight  " — In  Carfield's  cabinet— The  tragedy  of  iSSi— 'The  cimpaign 
of  1SS4 — The  Hurchard  incident —Blaine's  defeat — Reply  to  President  Cleveland's  message — Secretary 
of  State — The  Peace  Congress— Sorrow  and  aiiliction — Death  in  1S93— Depew's  tribute. 


20  LIST  01'  CHAPTERS  AXD  SCHJIXTS. 

BOOK    \'I. 

(L^iants  of  iitnbfntibf  3^flml)finrnt. 

ROBERT    FULTON. 

'rill-.    I'l.iNElK  OK    Sir.WI    N  \\  I'.Al  h)\ 447 

The  ;;:i()  between  invention  ami  achievement — The  |)ractiLal  man — A  rennsylvania  boy — Fulton's  artistic 
t.ilents— His  merhanical  abihties — 1  lis  rapiil  success — Visit  to  I'.ii^jiand — Turns  his  attention  tn  steam 
navijjalion — A  woikint,'  model — Aci  iilent  to  tlie  modi'l  —  His  |i,iiIirm-.1ii|)  with  l.ivin^'ston — liuildir.^'  of 
the  "Clermont  ' — The^iri'.it  trial  trip  -Incredulity  ol  the  speitalor — ■A^tonibhinent  and  dismay  on  shore 
— A  successful  trij) — "  The  Car  of  Xejjtune  " — l.e'^'al  complication-. — l",xposurc  and  illness — Death  m 
1815, 

SAMUEL    F.    B.    MORSE. 

I.wi.Nioiv  01    rill.   IJ  i-ri  Kir   I'll. Ki;k\i'H 453 

Importance  of  the  tcle^'raph — Wh.it  it  has  done  for  the  world — Mi)rse's  early  days — An  artist's  career — 
The  voyaL;e  to  I'.urope — ki;turii  in  the  "  SiilK"  — Conce()tion  of  the  telei,'raph — ^Dark  day-.— Kfceives 
his  |)atent  at  last — Aid  tioin  Con;^'ress — .\n  i;4nor.int  olVuial — Triumphant  success — Honors  to  .Mor--.e — 
The  Atlantic  cable. 

THOMAS    A.    EDISON. 

And    nil    Siouv  ok  Amkkii  .\n   Inviniiov, 459 

Public  interest  in  F^dison  —  His  boyhood  day-. — An  enterprisin;^  newsboy  —  .\uiateur  journalism  and  chem- 
istry— A  stroke  of  luck— Studying' telc.;raph\  —  His  tlrst  invention  -A  labors.ivint;  {jeiiius — l"oo  in;^'c- 
nious  by  half— Trouble  on  the  .Albany  wire — Kdison  locates  the  ditViculty — The  "  stock  ticker  " — Finan- 
cial success — I!dison  in  trouble — Fifteen  hours  without  rest  or  food — The  typical  inventor — A  poor 
business  man — Appearance  and  personal  traits. 

OTHER    GREAT    INVENTORS    AND    THEIR    INVENTIONS,     .    463 

Invention  and  ai^riculture— The  scythe— Cr.idle  —  I'low—  Fii  Whitney  .uul   the  cotlon-;;in — Cyrus   H.   Mc- 

Corinick — .Mowers  .md  reafiers — Invenlhuis — Oliver  l^van^ — tirisl  millinj; — The  steam  engine — [acob 

I'erkins  and  the  nail  machine — lilias  Howe  and  his  sewing  machine — Kli  Terry — Chauncey  Jerome — 

Clocks — Watches. 

—    -  -  ••-•-  — 

HOOK    VII. 

O^iant  IJlfii  of   I'liisiiifss. 

JOHN    JACOB    ASTOR, 

Ot'R    I'lONI  I  K    HlSIXKSS    .M.\N    AMI    )|U-I     M 11  l.lONAIKF 47I 

Astor's  experience  of  the  extremes  of  poverty  and  wfalth — Life  of  a  ('icrm.iii  ])e.isant  in  the  last  century — 
*       Astor  resolves  to  i^o  to  America — The  fur  business — i;n,L;li5h  monopoly  of  the  trade — .\stor's  journeys 
in  the   fur   ret,'ions — His  marriage — His  large  profits— -.\  bank   clerk's  estim.Ue — The  Astoria  scheme — 
iietr.iveil  by  his  agents — .Vstor's  disap|)ointment — His  business  i|ualities — His  great  success. 

GEORGE     PEABODY. 

Ol'R    I'lKsr    .Mll.I.loNAlKK    I'lllI  ANIllKOPIsr 481 

A  new  kind  of  millionaire — Tribute  due  to  IVibody — His  birth  aiul  early  training — .\  store  boy  in  New- 
huryp.Mt  —  Removal  to  the  l)i-.lncl  of  Colunil)ia  — l-'irm  of  Kiggs  iS.  I'eabody — His  popularity  and  suc- 
cess—  Branch  house  in  Fngland — The  terrible  crisis  of  1S37 — High  reputation  in  Fngland — .An  Ameri- 
can merchant  in  London — Aiil  for  .America  at  the  World's  Fair  of  1851 — Mr.  I'eabody's  simple  habits — 


LIST  or  cj/ArriiRs  axd  srnjiicrs.  21 

His  U)V(;  ol  juitice  -I  lis  yrcit  )(\h^  to  cdiir.iiinn  — A  in.i},'niiifcni  U^-cps.iki-  from  the  Queen — Hi;i  death 
in  i86y— Reception  of  his  remains  iii«Aineiu  i— Mr.  I'imIhhU  \  ■,  h  irii.iliif  works. 

CORNELIUS     VANDERBILT, 

TKi.n 
Ami   IMF.  Smuv  or  Ami  un  an   kxiiKoAn^ 491 

Scenes  of  \' amlerbilt's  youlh— An  enterprising'  l>oy— How  a  twelve-year-old  hoy  niana^-cd  .1  iiuzzlinK 
situ  iiion—llarninj;  ins  lirst  hundred  dollars— The  war  of  iSr  2— \'anderl)ilt's  m.irriai^e— \'oya^es  and 
p,,, tits—  The  new  system  of  steam  navi.;  ition~A  shrewd  captain— l.hklinjj  a  sherilV's  oltircr — liuildin;; 
of  a  steamer  of  his  own — At  the  he.id  "f  the  iMi^ini-ss — Investment-,  in  r  lilro.nU- ( tpeialions  in  Har- 
lem and  lliuUon  River— A  ron^-pir  \cy  a,Minsl  Harlem — The  tables  turned— lln  lar^jc  prolits- A  ),'real 
millionaire— Love  for  his  old  hcjine— Death  in  1877. 

Tm:  ShiKv  01    Oi-r  Rmiroad- cqi 

The  Tir^t  locomotive— Early  railways— Trial  iiip^  — The  Mih  iwk  ainl  Si  lu.-nectady  Road— A  trial  liip — 
Improvement^ — A  railway  mama — '  )ld-timc  coaihe-. — Across  the  continent  —  1'  irloi-  and  sleeiiiii;^'  cars— 
Consolidation- The  jjreat  railway  lompanies— Horse  versus  en-ine— The  Xijiv  York  Central  Railway — 
'I'hc  I'ennsylvania  system— llnd^e—rhe  electric  railway— The  outlook,  etc. 

CYRUS    W.    FIELD, 

'I"iii.  Sr((i>'Mi.  I'rojiciok  01    iHK  An.ANMi:  <'ai\i.f 517 

The  m.m  who  <;ticceeds — Field's  early  years— Retirement  from  bii.inesb— Mi .  Cii-ihorne's  plan — Field  t  ikes 
up  the  idea^A  company  orj^ani/ed — Aid  of  lirilish  and  American  i;ovcrnments — The  first  attein|)t — 
iireaking  of  tlie  cable — Another  trial  and  disappoinlment — A  new  plan— I  'sing  two  steamers — The  cable 
successfully  laiil—Mess-ige^  transmitted — A  -iidilen  -^top — Onemoretri.il — The  "  Cire.U  I'^.istern  " — I'art- 
ing  of  the  cable  in  mid-ocean — Orapiiling — .\  freih  start — Intense  public  interest — Success  at  last — 
Honors  to  .Mr.  Tield. 

LELAND    STANFORD, 
And   iiii.  S^torv  hf  Cai.ikiumv 52J 

Opening  up  of  the  groat  West — Stanford's  memory  in  California— The  discovery  of  gold  in  184S — The 
excitement  that  followed — California  in  the  c.irly  d.iys — The  ^e.i  voya:;e — California  w.iges — Specula- 
tion and  gambling — "  Miners'  justice  " — St.inforil's  early  life  in  New  York — An  enterprising  boy — The 
young  lawyer — Marriage — CioingWest — Chicago  in  1S50 — Lake  Mii  liigan  uiosciuitoeb— Arriv.il  in  Cali- 
fornia—  His  |)opiilaiity — Political  foresight— Need  of  railroads —  The  I'acilic  Railw.iy  enterprise — 
Marvelous  railro.id  building — 1 ;  ivernor  of  C  ililornia — An  era  of  prosperity — The  I'alo  Alto  ranch — 
Death  of  his  son — riio  Lcl.uid  Stanford,  Jr.,  University — A  iiolile  moiuimeiit — Death  in  l8y2. 

GEORGE    W.     CHILDS, 

'I'm;  CiKKAf  l'fiu,i:siir;K  and  I'iiiian  riiRMPis,!' 543 

A  noble  rharacter — Mr.  Childs'  iinivers.d  |)()piilarity — f.arly  life  in  Baltimore — Coining  to  I'hiladelphia — 
The  book  business — Mr.  Childs'  own  ai.count  of  his  start — A  \ouiig  publisher — Ambition  to  own  the 
"Ledger" — "Don't  buy!" — How  Childs  gathered  wealth — How  he  scattered  it — His  good  sense  in 
giving — The  "  Ledger  "  employees — Public  gifts — The  home  at  "  Wootton '' — Distinguished  guests— 
Childs  and  Drexel — How  to  make  life  worth  living. 

MARSHALL    FIELD, 

Till;  MiiDi  KN  r.t>iNKss  Man 553 

Cities  of  the  great  West— What  ^^•lrsh.lll  I'itld  has  done  for  Chicago — .\  .Massachusetts  country  boy — 
Ambition  to  be  a  merchant — (}oing  to  Chicago — The  citv  in  1S56 — .V  new  position — Plie  panic  of  1837 
— Becomes  a  junior  oartner — S[)eculative  business — Mr.  Field's  conservatism — Shortening  up  on  credits 
—Prosperity— The  great  tire  of  1873— .V  i"^^^'  ^tart- .\  great  building — Business  methods  of  Marshall 
Field  &  Co. 


22  LIST  OF  CHAITERS  AND  Si'IiJLCTS. 

JOHN     WANAMAKER, 

fAOH 
1  111.    (iKl-.Al     1)1   -IM.-i    ()K'.AM/1K 561 

Doing  what  Others  cannot  do — W.m.im.ikLr  as  ;i  book-store  l>«y — Clinihinii  the  l.ulder — Abetter  position 
— St.iitinji  in  business — Novel  metliiKlh — R.uiid  success — A  ;;rcMt  purcha^i — (Ir^'.mi/in^  a  ^Toat  depart- 
ment store — How  the  "  W.inainaker  inciliods  "  have  revoiutioni/ed  IjUsiness — Youn^'  Men's  t"liristian 
Association — The  Bctii.iiiv  Sunday-school — Small  beginnings — Mr.  Wanamaker's  organizing  ijowers — 
fostmaster-General — I'ublic  work  and  i:ifis. 


&vn\s  of  ricliqioiis  :ini)   ^^nriiil   iUfonn. 

HENRY    WARD    BEECKER, 

Tin;  (iKKAT  I'lirir  ('kaiok  am>  Rikiknji.k 571 

Lyman  Beecher  and  his  family — His  son's  boyhocnl  ami  tr.iinin;.; — Henry's  love  of  adventure — How  his 
father  made  him  a  minister  iiiste.id  of  a  sailor — Hi>  clieerfulness  and  tun — riieolof,'ii  al  studies  at  Line 
Seminary — Marriage  and  settlement  in  Indiana — I'reacher  and  man-of-.iU-woik — Call  to  I'lymtnith 
Church — Anti-slavery  work — Thrilling  scene  in  the  church — The  ransomed  slave — The  w.ir  of  1S61 

LEADERS  OF  RELIGIOUS  AND  SOCIAL  REFORM. 

LYMAN   ABBOTT,   I'amok  •<\-   I'r.  M-i  111   <  ihk.  11 5.S3 

THOMAS  DKWITT  TALMAGE,   I'-iiiak    I'm  11  i   (irm,,x ^^ 

RUSSEKL   H.   CONWELL,   \'\-\'<\<    wi.   In  iikiu 5S7 

CHARI.KS   H.   PARKHURST.    nil    iiixmimon  .,i    Minkii'M.  Kiiorv ;S() 

DWIGHT   L    MOODY,   iiii,  (iuiAi    Kv\s.;iini,      ...  -,,, 

WILLIAM    LLOYD    GARRISON, 

'\'\\\.  (iki.Ar  I'io.Ni.KR  Ai!oi.iiin.\i.-r 595 

Contrast  (jf  Garrison  and  Calhoun— ( iarrison's  great  victory — Mirth  and  e.irly  life — Partnership  with  lien- 
jamin  Limdy — He  dei  hires  for  immetli.Ue  em.in(:i]).ition  —  Imprisonment  for  libel— Released  by  Arthur 
T.mpan  —  Dei.l.nc  of  liie  "  Genius  "— ICstabli-^liinent  of  the  "  Liberator" — Living  on  bread  .'ukI  water^ 
An  unequ.il  contest — "  I  am  in  e.irnest  "^.\larm  and  wr.ilh  in  the  South — iiewards  for  Garrison's  ab- 
duction— •The  journey  to  England — Mobs  in  Boston — Garrison  dragged  through  the  streets — The  rescue 
— Horrors  of  slavery — G.irrison's  bold  words — .\nncx.iiion  of  Te.\as — How  colored  men  were  treated  in 
1845 — Threats  of  secession — Garrison's  course  in  the  w.ir — "  I  did  not  foresee  that  death  and  hell  would 
secede  " — Abolition  of  slavery — X'ictory  at  last— G.irrison's  psalm  of  praise — The  evening  of  life. 

Tin:  Storv  ok  .X.mikican  Si.avf.uv, 603 

The  negro  in  America — The  first  c.irgo — Beginning  of  the  slave  traffic — .\s  a  l.iborer — Increase  in  num- 
bers— Sl.ivery  ;  its  diiterent  character  in  different  Stales — Political  disturbances — Agitation  and  agita- 
tors— John  Brown — War  and  how  it  emanc  ipated  the  slave — The  free  negro. 

FRANCES    E.    WILLARD, 

And  I1i:r  Shjrs-  or  l-AMot.s  American  \Vomf.n, 621 

Vmo  distinct  early  types — The  Xorthern  and  the  Southern  —No  place  for  girls  in  the  New  England  public 
schools — No  education  for  women  in  colonial  p;>riod — Girls  first  admitted  to  public  schools — Church 
and  schools — .\dmission  to  high  schools — Universities — Women  .is  teachers — Southern  women — Self- 
su()port — Fields  now  fipen  to  them — In  liieratirc — la  the  profesMions — In  reform  movements — The 
sphere  of  woman — etc.,  etc. 


LIST  01'  CJIAPTliRS  A.\D  SL  INJECTS.  23 

BOOK    IX. 

(iManls  of  ^mcvitau  ilitcraturc. 


HENRY   W.    LONGFELLOW, 

FAGH 

ANI>     I  Ml.    SlOUV    OK    AmKKIi  AN    1 .1  1  I  UA  1  TKK 6^; 

Colonial  literature— Post-revolutidn  literature  — I rvini,'— Culprit  Fay— Marco  Hozzaris—nry ant— Recent 
literature— Walt  Whitman-^ I  lowelN — Henry  lanu"-— I'.  Marion  Crawford — New  lln^jland  literature— 
Whittier — Lowell — l,onj;fellow--I  lawthorne  —  Minor  novelists— The  literature  of  the  south  and  west^ 
American  histori.tns — American  oratory — Webster— Wendell  riiilli|)s — Contrast  between  I^nglish  and 
American  literature. 

WASHINGTON    IRVING, 

AiiiiiiK  or  iiiK  "  Ski- icii  Hook," 653 

Betjinnin^'s  of  a  real  American  literature — Irvinj,''*  delicate  health — Travel  in  Europe — Knickerbocker's 
"  History  of  New  York" — The  "Sketch  liook  " — lrvini;'s  intimacy  with  >,'rcat  i;n>,'lish  authors— His 
popularity — "  Who  was  Washiii^'ton,  mother?" — Life  in  Spain— The  "  Alhambra  "  tales — Sunnyside 
and  its  guests — Curtis  on  Irving. 

WILLIAM    CULLEN    BRYANT, 

Thk  Oldest  ok  thk  (Iukai   A.mkkican  I'ukts 65^ 

Bryant  a  link  between  the  present  and  the  past — "  Thanatopsis  "  .md  its  popularity — Remov.d  from  Massa- 
chusetts to  New  York — The  /'.vt-iiiiii^  /'isf — liryant's  Ion;.;  life  and  conspicuous  position  —  His  marriage 
—  I'oems  to  his  wift — The  "  Forest  Hymn" — Translation  of  Homer — His  wonderful  memory — .A  bad 
case  of  poetic  idiocy — liryant's  striking  appearance. 

JAMES  FENIMORE  COOPER, 

Thk  I'lONF.KK  OK  .Xmkkican  HisroKU.Ai,  Romancf., ds; 

Early  life  in  the  wilds  of  Central  New  N'ork — \'isits  of  the  Indians — Yale  Collej^e — His  expulsion — Midshi|i- 
man  in  the  navv— Marria^;e — A  poor  novel — 'I  believe  I  could  write  a  better  story  myself  " — "The 
Spy  " — '  I'he  I'llot  " — Its  ei'fect  on  an  oKl  sailor — Cooper's  unpopul.irity — Libel  suits — Death  in  1851. 

GEORGE    BANCROFT, 

TllK.    IlMiNKNT    AmKKH  AN    IIlsTOklAN 650 

Bancroft's  Une  opportunities — His  education — Travel  in  Europe — Political  life — First  volume  of  his  "  His- 
tory of  the  United  Slates  " — Secretary  of  the  N.ivy  —  Minister  to  F.nj^land — Bancroft's  patriotism — "  A 
Fourth-of-July  oration  in  ten  volumes" — The  oration  on  Lincoln — Rose-growing  and  horseback  riding 
— His  last  years. 

RALPH    WALDO    EMERSON, 

The  Concord  I'hii.o-oi'iikk   and  Poek, 660 

f-ife  at  Harvard— His  prot'iciency  in  literature — Study  for  the  ministry — Resignation  of  his  pastorate — His 
home  at  Concord — His  attractive  personality— Miss  Bremer's  description — His  home  life  and  charac- 
ter— His  manners— His  conception  of  the  true  object  of  life. 

EDGAR    A.    POE, 

Thk  Hkii.i.iANr  Poet  and  Airiinu 661 

Poe's  sad  history— His  parents  aiiil  their  poverty- His  mother's  death — Adopticm  by  Mrs.  Allan— .\  bril- 
liant scholar— His  love  of  drink— His  reckless  marriaije— .\  life  of  poverty — His  wife's  death— His 
powers  as  an  elocutionist — His  manners  toward  women— Death  in   i8'49. 


24  /-/-S/'  OF  >  7/'.//77A'.S-  .l.\7)  SCnj/UTS. 

NATHANIEL    HAWTHORNE, 

'I'llK    (lUKATKsT    AMKKICAN     WkIII  K    <>I-     KuMANCK, OOj 

The  son  of  a  S.ilem  so:t-i  .ipt.iin—  Lite  at  <  ollf^e  — I'in.'n(l--lii|i  of  l.diiLifi'llow  and  I'lercc — Kisiilciuc  at  Cod. 
cord — "  Moi^fi  fniTii  .111  I  )lil  M.ui^f"  "  I'lio  Sc.nli  t  l.t.'llir"  (.diiiidat  Liverpool  I  iiro|)e;>ii  life  and 
travel — III-,  sliyiu-is  ami  rL'sfrM--\|r.  I'uhU'  ant-cdoie — lii-.  happy  niarriai:o— 'I'lihuie  to  Ins  rtife— 
Seclusion  from  society — Kitiiiii  Imin  i'.iirnpc — I'hr  imliniNlRil  rom  nice — Longfellow's  hcautiful  poem. 

HENRY    D.    T  H  O  R  E  A  U, 

'I'll!'.  ('(iN'oKii  lIi;i;.Mir  AMP  N  \ :  iN  \i  i-^T 6^>5 

The  "  ("oncord  ^'roiip  "  of  .vriters  ami  pliilosophcrs — I'liorcaii's  pc(  entrii  ity — Mis  hermit  life  — "  Walden  '  — 
Failure  "f  hi-,  lirit  work— A  surveyor-naturalist — Mis  love  for  the  liclds  and  wouds — llis  religion-- 
Kiuerson's  triliutc  to  his  i  haiai  tcr. 

JOHN    G.    WHITTIER, 

'I'liK  (JfAKi.K  I'm: r  ci|-  Amkkica, fi6'> 

A  New  F.n;,'land  fanner's  son — I'ictiiro  of  his  early  life  in  "Snow  Hound" — The  youthful  poet  ami  his 
vcrse>.  in  th..' weekly  pif)er — ( iiriismi's  visit —Whittier's  poems  in  the  cause  of  freedoni-'riueatened 
by  iiinh,— Ills  home  life — Tnljute  to  his  sister  Fli/.aheth — His  appearance— Popularity  ui  his  poems — 
His  hroailness  and  liberality — \\\>  plea  for  a  little  ;,'irl — The  evening,'  of  life. 

JAMES    RUSSELL    LOWELL, 

'I'm:  (iKi  Ai    I'liKr    vnd  LlssAvisr ()(>9, 

Lowell's  i,'reat  powers — His  versatility — Study  at  Harvard — Marriage — His  wife's  lovelint  ss— Her  poems — 
Her  death  in  1S53 — "  The  Two  An.L;els  " — Professorship  at  Harvard — Kditorofthe  "  Atlantic  Monthly" 
—  Minister  to  Spain  and  <  ireal  liritain  —  I  lis  popularity  in  Kiv^l.md— The  "  lii^'low  P.'.pcrs  "  —  llis  ardent 
patriotism — The  "  Conimeinoration  Ode." 

WALT   WHITMA^T, 

'rm:  AriiioK  of  "  Lkavf.s  ok  C'iKa- ■,"      670 

Whitinan's  originality — His  boyhoml  —  llis  lovcof  nature  and  of  humanity  -A  iJrooklyn  printer — "  Leaves 
of  (irass  " — Severe  criticism — Nurse  in  the  \\'a-.hinj;ton  hospitals — Lincoln's  death — "  My  Captain" — • 
"  Drum-taps  ' — Life  in  Camden  —  His  strikini;  appearance — Death  in  1892. 

LOUISA   M.   ALCOTT, 

TnK.  A:  iiioK  01    "  I.ii n.i;  Womf.n," 671 

Miss  Alcott's  life — Its  deep  interest  and  paiho^ — 1  ler  un|)ractical  father — Life  with  a  philosopher — From 
Germantown  to  ISoston — Reino\al  to  Concord — Another  breakdown— Louisa's  unselfish  efforts — Teach- 
in^;  and  writin;.;— Her  sjrowin.L,'  reputation — Life  as  an  army  nurse — "Hospital  Sketches" — "Little 
Women  "  — Its  immense  popularity — Other  stories — (Jverwork  and  jioor  health — -Death  in  iSSS — 
"  Transti;.^uration." 

HORACE    GREELEY, 
'I'm-;   l''orNi)i;k  of  Moukkn  Joiknai.ism 675 

(ireelcy's  j^reat  influence — His  ])icturesque  ch.iracter — "  Let's  see  what  old  Horace  says  this  week  " — Mis 
birth  and  bo\hood — His  precocity — "  No  pupils  from  other  towns  except  Horace  Greeley  " — An  appren- 
tice to  a  printer — Forty  dollars  a  year — Goes  to  New  York — Mistaken  for  a  runaway  apprentice — Kni- 
ployment  at  last — The  "  New  Yorker  "and  its  disastrous  collapse — "  1  wouUl  rather  be  in  prison  than  in 
debt" — The  "  I-o.^^  Cabin"  Campaiijn — Harrison's  triumph — Startini,'  the  "  Triliuno  " — Heljied  by 
opposition — The  "  Trnmnc"  loved  and  hated — Mrs.  (ireeley's  "  isms  " — .\ble  contributors— The  Taylor 
campaijjn  of  1848 — Greeley  chosen  to  Conj^ress — "Tell  Brooks  to  keep  still" — Making  Congressmen 
uncomfortable — The  "  Tribune"  a  mighty  power — Opposing  the  slavery  measures — Greeley's  course  in 


L/ST  01    ClfAITllKS  AXP  SI ■/!//:(■ /S.  2', 

the  W.ir— "On  ti)  Kii  luiKiiul  "  Att.irliiiuMil  <>('  lii^  rc.ulcrs-  (.rccley's  elhiits  for  |ie.ii  e  — t  iocs  li.iil  Imi 
Jefferson  Davis — Niiniinatjil  for  IVi-sidcnt— Mrs,  (Ireeley's  sii  km-is  and  ilcatti— llcr  hiishand's  devo- 
tion—  llii  own  su  kness  .mil  (Icitli— llis  inoniinieni. 

HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE. 

Thi    .\i  iikiu  III    Amikha'-  Mil- 1    \'<>\\  i  \i<   N.aii ds- 

An  iininortal  Ijnok — Mrs.  Stowe's  power — The  f.iinily  of  l.yin.m  lU-cc  her — Urin.'V.il  to  L'jncinn.iti — I..inc 
Sciniii.ir\-  I'roU'ssor  Stowc — .Miss  lieei  licr'i  niarri.i^jc — .\»'>isl.iiire  t"  .i  fii;;iiivt!  slave— A  slni^'j,'le  with 
poviiiy  and  ill-lie.illli — Keinnval  to  liriinswick,  M.iine-- Mr-.  Siowe'^i  iiil)Ml.iti(iii-i  .\  inenior.ilile  year — 
i'he  Iiigiti\cSl.ive  Law  I  Itart-rcndin;;  m  ene- — I'.\liort.iiion  to  write-  "  I  «'/.',' write  somclliln^'" — I'e.ir-* 
of  the  childnn  nver"t'ii(lc  Tom" — The  story  first  published  in  the  "  N.itional  I'.ra  " — Its  ininicnse 
siirress — i'opiil.irily  in  Kn^hind — Removal  to  M.issarhii-etts— journey  to  llnjji.iml-  .Mrs.  Stowe's  hnsv 
pen — flic  inlliierice  of"  rncle  Tom's  t'aliin  " — C'elrhralion  of  .Mr-..  Stowe's  7otli  birthday — I'ucnis  uid 
aildrf>S( iler  icsixmse — 'I'oiiihini:  word-,  of  Whittier. 


r.  (  )  ()  In      .\  . 

|.1olitif;il  ("^^i;ints  of  tijf  ^Irfsnit  p;ii). 


BKNJAMIN   HARRISON,   Sni.Dll.K,   OKATOK,   AM«  SlAri>.M\.\ 

grovi:r  ci,i-;vi:land,  si  i  ■  i;sshi.  i.awmck,  (.nv  i.knok,  AM)  riti-inKNi 

JOHN   SHERMAN.    I'm:  i  inamikk  .\M)  Staii^mw 

THOMAS  BRACKKTT  RKKD,    TiiK  CurAi    "Sii  akiii;"  anp  Hi  r,  \iik 

CHARLES   FRP:DERICK   CRISP,  S.iI.IUl  k   A.M)   I'AKI.IAMl.M  AHIAN 

JOHN  GRIFFIN  CARLISLE.    Iaiuii-  Ki  f-ukmkk,  riN.\.\cii:K,  ami   I'aki  iami'M  aki.v.n, 

LEVI   PARSONS   MORTON,   IIankkk  a.M)  StaiksMan 

WILLIAM   B.  ALLISON,  C  i  .\(,|(Essman  ami   I'isam  ikk 

DAVID  BENNETT  HILL,  ( ,(ivi  unou,  Sknatok.  and  I'oi  rm  ai.  Ii-.adi.k 

HENRY  MOORE  TELLER,   I'isimss  ()h(,am/i.u  and  Chamiion  hk  Sua  i.k  Coinai.k 

WILLIAM  LYNE  WILSON,  S.  imi  \k  and  'I  auiff  Ki- i-okmik 

WILLIAM   McKINLKY.  JR..  Takiif  Ri  I  (1U.MJ.K  and  C.oM-itNoi; 

CHAUNCEY    MITCHELL   DEPEW,    TliK  AposTl.lC  OF  SlnmIINK  AND   ClIK I.Kl-Ll.NliSS. 


"•(XI 

/04 
-o,S 
71  I 

720 


'-'J 


ll.N.NaVl.VAMA    A\  IM.  I  ,    1 


(.  Al'l  li  'L,    \VA.!I1I.N|jU.i.N. 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


I'Afin    .  r\(ii-: 

Statue   of    Janu's    A.    (laiiirld.    in    Caiiiiol  \'ic\v  of  the  Ca])!!!!!.  \\'asliiiit,'ton,     ....    90 

Crouiul^ I^'roittis-'ircr.  Hanks  of   lio  Mis>i?-siiiiM  Tn-iia)-,  tor  wIiom; 

l\iins\l\aiiia  Ascniio,  \\'aship.L;ton 27  I-ive  Nasi^aiion  jav  .\\\i;oiiati.'!l 95 

,^,1  St.   Vm\\'>.  Ncu-  \'o:k.  an   (  Hd   CiiiiKlidf 

_^6  J'i>  s  'lime 97 

40      Cornuallis, 103 

44  Narrow  llMapcof  lluncdict  Arnold,  when 


A  N'iryinia  I'lantation  (lalcway,     .... 
Washinuton's  Ri-ccption  at  'I'renton,    .    . 

\Va.-.hiii,-lMn  'l'akin,i;  tlK'  Oath 

Wa^liinuton  Cros>ini,'  the  Dehiware.      .    . 
Old  lliniiiiiLihani  Meetiiii;  House,      .    .    . 
\\'ashin;;ti)n  i\r|iro\  iny  l.ee  at  Monnimiih. 
Meeting'  of  W  ,i--hinL:tiui  and  Rik  h.unlicau. 
'The  'lonih  ol'  \\',i>hinL;ion  at  .Ml.  \'eiiion. 

IViin's   I'leaty  with  ilie  Indians 

l\.■nn'■^  Rc^ideiiie  in  Second  Street,  lielow 


4O  liurnin^  New  London.  ( 'onnec  lii  iit,     .    .   105 

47      Jaiiii'^  .Maili-  iU,  1  laniilti'n\  (  liief  .\id  in 

50  Writiii',  ••  The  I'Vder.ilist," lo.S 

54      Duel  llelv'.een  ISurr  and  li.nniUnn 112 

5O      The  l.ilierly  liell,  as  I'Ahiluled  at  the  .New 

(  iilcans  llxposiiion 115 


C'he>tnut   Street fi,:       Inde|ienden(e  Hall,   I1iilailel|  iliia ilS 

Death  of  WHlfe, f)(i      Sta-e-(■l^ll■h  of  JellerMaiV  Tinu-, uo 

Rear  X'iew  (if  Indeiiendenc  e  I  I.iU 6i)  Siu;ninL;  the  Dei  laratiuii  (.f  inile|"-nden<  c  .  125 

l'"ranklin'>  ( liaxe 72  Fairl'ax  ( 'onrt  House — A  T)  pical  \'ir,:;inia 

Old    I'lMildin;:   in    H.^idn   where  the  Tea  Court  Ilnn-e .   125 

I'lut  is  Sn|i]insed  lo  ha\  e  been  1  latehed.     .  77      \"irL;inia  ( 'inrene\- 127 

The  ^^l>llunK■nt  on  I'.unkerlldl So      .\n  Indian  Mother 131 

The   .\ttaek    on    Rioters   at    S]irinL;l'ield,  .\  Vaniiliar  KentU(  ky  Scene  in  j.u  k^on's 

Mass.,  in  17X6 85  Wiuth i,^,:; 

Old  .'^■uuth  rinireh,  Boston, 8S      The  Indian's  Dei  laraii^n  "f  War i;,7 


2cS  LIST  OJ-  ILLCSTRAT/OXS. 

pa(;k  I                                                                                                                          PACE 

The  Old  Marit;ny  Hoii^c,  a   Relic  of  the  ;   United  States  Mint,  \e\v  ( )rleaiis ::S4 

War  of  iSi3 139   '   Moist  Weather  at  the  Front,       jS6 

An  Indian  light  in  Morida 141       Surrender  of  ( leneral  l.ee cSS 

\'ie\v  of  a  Cotton-chute 146  (leneral  (Irant  antl  I,i  llimu  t'haiiL;.  \'iee- 

l.oadinj,' a  Cotton  Steamer, 1 4^  1       roy  of  China 290 

liurning  of  Wa>hini;ton 150  f  The  Funeral  Train  of  General  Grant,   .    .    .  202 

Statue  of  Connnodore  Terry,       152   '  An  Old  Indian  Farmhouse, 294 

\'ie\v  on  Lake  Ontario 154  I  A  Skirmisher 295 

'Weathersford  and  General  Jaekson,       .    .    .  156  i  The  Arts  of  Peace  and  the  An  of  Wai'.    .    .  297 

The  FiL;ht  Ship, 161       [''ort  .\[ouUrie.  ('harlestun 299 

The  \\'hite  H(n:se  at  Washin,L;ton.     ....  165    <    i'.attle  of  i'ittsbur^i;-  l.anilin- 300 

()jieninLrof  the  J-'.rie  Canal,  in  1N25,    .    .    .  167   '   Antietam   Hridne ,502 

House  of  Re|iresentali\es 172      General  Robert  lulmund  l.ee 305 

.\n  Old  X'iru'inia  Mansion 179       Retreat  of  Fee's  Arm\ 30S 

.■\n  ( )ld  \'ir,i:inia  Mansion — interior,    .    .    .  iSo      Ilntrance  to  GettyshutL;   Cenuier) 510 

Turnjiike    in    the    lihie   Grass    Region   of  Foiii^slreet    Reiiortini;   at    llrauiu-    IKad- 

Kenturk}' 1S3  i|uarters 312 

ResickiKe  of  a  Southern  I'lanter iSS  llatlle  of   Kene>aw    Mountain  —  lieath   of 

F'aneuil  i  lall.  I>o>ton,  which  Webster  called  General   Folk 320 

■• 'I'he  < 'radle  of  Fibert\," 195  The  "  Suanip  AuLiel  "  iSatlery  iiombard- 

'I'he  j-'.lms,  X'ale  l'.ii\ersity, 204  ini;  <  harleston 322 

( )ld  Gates  at  St.  Au.^ustine,  {■'lorida.     .    .     .  -07       Re\ie\\cif  L'liion  Armies 325 

laitrance  to  a  Cotton-yard,  New  Orleans.    .  210  Siaiue  c)f  Mc  (  lellan  in  Cii\   llali  Si|uare, 

A  ••  Corn  Shucking;  "  in  Slavery  Times,  .    .  212  I'liiladelphia 331 

(.'olonial  Mansion.     Residence  of  the  Fate  Fnited    StiUes     12-incli     llrecc  h-loading 

William  liull  Pringle,  Fsc|..  Charleston,    .  214  .\F)rtar  or  Howit/er 335 

A  Scene  on  'Fexas  Flains — Dispute  o\-er  a  General    Sheridan   'Fuming    l)efeai    into 

lirand 21S  \'ictory  at  C'edar  Cieek 338 

An  Old  S])anish  House, 219  United  States  .Militarv  Teleuia]ih  Wagon.    .  339 

J-'all  of  the  Alamo 221       I'ickett's  CJharge  at  Gc'ii\>l)nru 345 

Tlie  (ioliad  Massacre, 222  Latest  Motlel  of  Galling  l-ield  (lun,     .    .    .  346 

A  liucking  ISrcincho, 224      A  Railroad  llattery 350 

L)attle  on  the  I'lains 226      John  iirown  after  his  Captuie 357 

Lincoln's  Fioyhood  Home  in  Reniuck}-,  .    .  230  I'he  Fnnes  River  and  Countr}  Near  Rich- 
Home  of  Fincoln  at  Gentrwille.  'r.diana,  .  233          mond 358 

()|cening  of  the  Illinoisand  Michigan  Canal,  234  Fibby  Prison  in  1SS4,  Belore  its  Remo\al 

Lincciln  and   His  Son  "'Fad," 240  to  Chicagc> 360 

Filib\-  I'rison  in  Richmond, 244      ••General  Fee  to  the  Rtvir,'        362 

15ird's-eye  \'ie\v  of  .Vndersonviile  i'rison,     .  246      Fee  and  the  i'erryman 363 

'i'he  Caiitm-e  of  F>oo(li,  the  Slayer  of  Lincoln.  247      Lee  and  the  I'nion   Soldier,  .    ■ 3C4 

Old    New  \'ork   .Mansion   Near  Seward's  Harper's  i'"err\' 371 

Home 254      liattie  of  Clianceliors\  ille 372 

Seal  Catihin^' in -Maska 257  House  in  which  Stonewall  Jaikson  Died,      .374 

klols 'I'otem,  of  .Maska 2C0  Fight  between   the   '•Monitor"   and  the 

'Fhe  \'acant   Seat   in   the  Senate,  Draped  "  Merrimac," 3S3 

in  I'.kuk 271      Sinking  of  the  ".Mabama," 386 

Main  P)uilding  of  the  ('cniennial  i'.xposi-  )   ISurnside's  l-lxpedition  Crossing  Hatteras  Bar,  392 

tion.o])ened  by  President  Grant  in  1S76,    .  277  ■' Chicago."  One  of  tiie  New  War  Shi|is,  .    .   ^95 

Decoration   l)a\, 2S0  l''.iglit-inch  Gun  of  the  "  lialtimore,"  .    .    .  401 


LIST  01'  /fJ-CSTRAr/OXS. 


29 


I'Ai.l-. 

]5;ulcv'>  Dam  im  tlic  Red  Riwr 405 

One  t^\  the  ••  .\IiaiUiini)mali'.>  "  I'lHir  I'eii- 

im  h  liteecli  liiailiiii,'  Rilles 40() 

'J'lie  l''arra,mit  MimumeiU  in  \\'asliiiiL;t(in.      .  407 

Model  i)t"  L'nited  States  Man  <it'  War |oS 

'I'lie  II  )nie  ot"  (lanield'>  ChildilKi'd 1 1  j 

(larlleld  iin  the   r(i\v]iatli 41,; 

1 1  i  rani  ( 'ullege p  5 

(larti-jld's  A>sa->inaiii)n (Jo 

'I'ahlet   in   the  \\'ailini,'-r<)(ini  of  llie  Rail- 

wAX  Station  where  (laiheld  u;i.s  Shot,  .  .  -\:2 
The  Statue  of  l.iljert)'  in  New  N'ork  Ilarlxir.  427 
(leiierai  \'iew  of  ilie  New  \'ork  C'itx  Ilall,  .  42S 
Mr.  I)laine\  riirthphice.  llrounsville,  I'a.,  .  454 
Srhool    House.    Urouiisville,    I'a..    uhere 

Mr.  lliaine  ISe^an  his  Education t  ;0 

Wa^hinL,'lon  and  Jefferson  College 4,^'-! 

The  lilaint'  Resilience  at  .Auu'usta,  .\lame.    .  .;  (i 

Missi.ssi|i]ji  Steandioats  of  'i"o-(la\- ;;o 

Plan  of  the  World's  I-'air  (iroun(N ;;j 

Shop  in  whi(  h  the  l'"irst  .Mor>c  Inslruineni 

was  Constructcil ;;5 

The  New  \'ork  St(ick  l^\chanL;c I'n 

A  Colonial  Sinniiin^'-wheel j(<j; 

Colonial  I'lou  with  Wooden  Mold-ljoard.  .  .|'>4 
A  New  l';n,i,'lan(l  Weaver  Windiui;  the  Spools.  464 

Primitive  -Modes  of  ( irindiiii;  Corn )()() 

Between  the  Mills 407 

A  Creat  .Modern  Flour  Mill 467 

A  Modern  New  York  Store 471 

Chani|ilain's  i-'oriit"ied  Camp  in  (Jueliei  .  .    .  47^ 

View  on  liroadwav,  New  \'ork 47:; 

Ancient  iJloik  House.  .Maska 476 

Modern  Stores  in  Boston, 4X5 

Produce  I'Achange  Bmldini,',  .New  N'ork.  .    .    (So 

First  Trai'i  of  Cars  in  .America 4(>i 

"Johnny  I'ull,"  or  No.   i _((,^ 

Loading  a  Traill  of  Tank  Cars 4(13 

The\'an(lerliilt  I'"aniil\  Driving  in  Cential 

Park,  New  \dik ^()7 

Suspension  Bridge,  Niagara  Falls 4(),S 

The  Royal  Gorge,  Colorado. 500 

New  Terminal  Station,  Reading  Railroad.  .  501 
On  the  Baltimore  and  Ohio  Railway,  .  .  .  505 
Scene  in  the  Chicago  Riots  of  1894,  ,  ,  .  507 
Ijitering  Boulder  Cafion,  Colorado,  .  .  .  50;) 
Mossbrae, 511 


.\rri\-al  of  the  (ireal  i'.,i>lern,     .    .    , 
l!le\'aied  Railmad  in  New  \'ork,    . 
I'inding  Cold  in  the  .Mill-race, 
( lold  Washing  in  Calilornia,  .    .    . 
<lhl  Mission  Indian  ot'  Southern  ('aliforn 
l!\e(  ulion  1>\   the  \  igilance  ('omniittee, 
(liaiit    Tree  i>l'  the  N'osemite  X'allev, 
.\  llee  Ran(  h  in  Lower  California,    .    . 
\'alk'\'  Irrigation  in  Sontliern  ( 'alilornia. 
D  Jine  and  Telescope.  I.ic  k  ( )liser\at(U\ . 
.\n  Old  Colonial  ITkhc  Near  I'liiladclph 
.\(  .ideniv  of  F'ine  .\rt.-,  l'hiladeli)hia. 
The  Dre.xel  Institute,  PhiLidelpliia,  . 

Lake. Shore  Drive,  Chicago 

.\  ('hicago  Mansion  in  tlie  F'„ulv    i).iv^ 
Tile  llurning  of  Chicago  in  1.S71, 
^\hole>ale  Store  of  .Marshall  F'ield  \-  ( 
I'lCiiiany  Stnidav-School    Tent.  i.S^ij. 
I'lethany  Church  and  .Sinidav-SchooL 
•■  l.indenhurst,"    .Mr.  W.uiauiakei's  ('<iu 

Kc-.iden(  (■ 

Places  of  Wiuship  in  .New   NDrk  in   1742 
Pil.le  Brought  ( )ver  in  the  Mav  (lower, 
( )ld  Dutch  Church,  Long  Island,       .    . 
Moiavian  liaster  Service,  iiethlehem,  I'.i. 

( 'oloniai  .Monasterv 

Passover  Supper 

.\  Slave  Hunt 

/achary  Taylor, 

Inlrodiii  tiou  of  Slaverv, 

F!xecuting  Negroes  in  New  \drk,  .    . 

.\  CotttJii-lleld  in  (ieorgia 

\  Negro  N'iilage  in  .M.ihama.  .  .  . 
.\  Planter's  House  in  Cicorgia.  .  .  . 
Statue  of  Washington.  Rii  hmomL    . 

Hawthorne's  Birthplace 

The  Old  .Manse,  (dncoril 

Whittier's  Birthplace 

.\  Dutch  Household 

Interior  of  Memorial  Hall 

.Memorial  Hall.  Harvard  Cniver^itv, 

(ireenwood  Cemelerv 

iManklin's  Printing  Press 

Single  Small  ( 'vlinder  Press 

The  P.ullock-Hoe  Perfecting  Press.    . 

Negro  \'illage  in  ( Ieorgia 

.\  New  England  Cotton  Mill.    .    .    . 


.s-o 

i-- 
526 

5-9 
5.1 ' 

5.V? 

.^,;'> 

5, 5  7 

547 
549 
55,5 
554 

557 
5 ''4 

5 '''5 
y 
567 

57' 
571 
572 
5  74 

5  77 
5. Si 

597 
600 
605 
607 
611 

^•'■5 
r)i,s 

640 
650 
654 

66S 
66,) 
6,S2 
6,S7 
69 1 

''9,5 
700 
706 


FULL  PAGE  „X  PORTRAITS. 


I'.dward  I']\L'teti  ILile. 
(icoi'Lic  \\'a.-.hiiii,'tiii,, 
licnjamiii  I'lankliii. 
I'llin  .\(laui,>.     .    .    . 


5  Jainc.-,  {'..  Ijlainc. 

.     ,1^  (Icuri^c  I''.  !■;  imimii-. 

.     5.S  ( ;i<j\ci-  Clo\L'laii(l.    . 

7  t  I'x  njamiii  1  lani^nii. 


J"'ii'  J'lv "::  ChauiKrN   .M.  |)c|r<.v. 

Alexander  HainiliM: ,  oo       knl.crt  I-'idinn, 

■^h()nla^  _U-rk-r,>nn 114  Saiiiuel  1'.   I'.,  M,,isc. 

Andrew  jack^m i  ;o       i  li.>inas  A.  I'.dison,      . 

Martin  \'an  IJinen 1  |j  j,  iliii  ja.  (,h  A.U.r,    .    . 

j.'hn  (,)aincy  A(lani-> 160  ( Icnr-c  1  Valxxh', 

"^■i"T  ''l''.^ \:(>  ('..riicliii.  Vandcrl.iit. 

janio  k.   I'.ilk rSO  JmIid  M.  'I cy,     .     , 

Haiiiel   Wclwtcr i,jj  Cyrils  \V.   Vwll.  .     .     . 

\"hn'V\\vr joo  I.cland  Sianfnrd,      .    . 

Miiiard  kiliniure 202  ('.cirj^c  \V.  Cliilds.  . 

j"iiii  ('.  Calh.ini 206  Marshall  I'ifld,     ,    .     . 

janics  Monnic .oS  J<,lin  A\'aiiainaker,    .     . 

SaniiK-l  IliMNhm j  1  (,  j.  .lin  AVananiaker  in  V.n 

Abraliain  i.in.  nil .j.S  ( icnri^e  1 1.  Stuart,    .    . 

(Icncral  W'ini'icld  -'lott _- ; :;  ]  lonry  Ward  Ilrcdicr, 

Andrew  Jwlm-Mn _.;o  I'.isliop  J.  1 1.  \'iiu  ent, 

William  II.  Si'uard J52  William  I.lnyd  Carri^.ui 

William  I'.wan  (;iad>t,,nc 2i>2  I'ranc  ls  I-,.  Willard,     . 

CharKsSnmner 264  I  lannah  Wdiitall  Smith, 

I'laiddin  I'lerce 269  Julia  Ward  ilowe,    .    . 

James  lliKhanan 2-;,  lienrv  W.  I  .(inufellnw, 

ri\sses  S.  (Irani j;6  Ralph  Waldo  i'lmersim, 

Williain'r.  Shermai; -16  Walt  Whitman,    ,    .     . 

Ceoi-e  P..  MiClellan ;,.vS  James  Rus>ell  I.uwell, 

I'liilil'  II-  ^iH^rid.m ;,;,4  Louisa  May  Alroit,      . 

Ceorue  0.  Mea.le 342  William  CiilKn  l!r\  ant, 

(le.ii-e  II,  Th.imas 5^S  Wr.shinntnn  Ir\  in,i;,      , 

^<'^\'^n  v..  I.ee .34  J.  l-oi)im<irc  Ccxjpor.  . 

Thnmas  J.  (••Stonewall  ")  Jaeksnn :;6S  ( leor-e  liaiicrdft,      .    . 

Ji.hn  Mriosoii .-(^  I'.d-ar  Allan  Toe,     .    , 

John  Paul  J. .nes ;,jO  Nathaniel  Hawthorne, 

D.ivid  ('..  I'aria.uiil 400  I  lenrv  I ).  ■jhoreau.      . 

Admir.il  l)a\  id  1).   Porter ,    ,    .  404  John  ( I.  Whitiier.    ,    , 

James  A.  (lanield ,    ,410  iloiai  e  ( '.n-elex' 

C.arlield  at  the   \-.'  of  Sixteen,       414  Willian.  I  lenry  I  larrison 

lion.  John  Sheiman 41;  Whitelaw  Keid,  ( Ireeley 

Chester  .\llen  .\rthiir.  (I, irlield's  Sui(e»or.  ,41s  lefferson  Davis, 

Samuel  J.  Tilden, 424  Harriet  lieecher  Stowe, 

Ruiherfurd  liiircliard  Hayes 430  lohn  ISrown 

30 


PACE 

•  -hi-: 

•  -i.V) 

■  410' 
44  J 
4-1  ■( 

■  446 

■  4,s,^, 
.  45« 

•  470 
,  4S0 

•  490 

•  512 
,516 

•  5-4 

,  5.1 3 

•  5,^2 
.  560 
.  562 

.S63 
5  7° 
5'\5 

•  594 
6jo 

642 

644 

646 
648 

()-.2 

f'5  7 

692 
663 
965 
966 
674 
677 
979 
9,Si 
69.S 
704 


(.1 HKCI:    WASIIlNCrnN. 


GEORGE  WASHINGTON, 

FATHER   AXn    I-'OITNIJKK   OF   THH    KKPUBLIC. 


W 


AMOXG  the  iiuiltitiulc  who  in  dilTt.'rent 
lands  .ind  times  h;i\c  won  tame  in  vary 
in^;'  d(;L;ri^<^;s,  a  luw  staml  out  so  distinct 
so  far  above;  th(;  rest,  that  thi;y  mark  the 
eras  of  the  \V(jrld's  proL^ress.  liy  them 
\v(;  measure;  our  L;ro\vth  :  by  them  we 
test  our  aiKamc;  or  dechut;.  We  no 
lon^^cr  judt^t;  them,  but  rather  judt^e 
oursel\t;s  by  them,  by  the  e'.\t(;nt  to 
which  we  can  ai)[)reciate  and  luider- 
stand  them.  An  ai^e  in  which  thi;y  are 
honorc^d  is  <^lorious  ;  a  generation  by 
which  tliey  are  not  esteemed  is  con- 
tem])tible.  Amons;  the  few  thus  truly 
i;reat  is  Wasiiim;  ro\.  A  thousaiul  times 
has  the  story  of  his  ncjble  life  been  toKl  ; 
yet  ne\er  wert;  n\vA\  so  (;ai;er  to  hear  it 
as  now.  llis  charact(;r  has  endured 
(;verv  test  ;  his  fame  is  seciu't;.  "It  will 
be  the  duty  of  the  historian  in  all  ai;es," 
says  Lord  IVou^ham,  "  to  omit  no  occa- 
sion of  comm(;moratinLi'  this  illustrious 
man  :  .  .  .  and  until  time  sliall  be  no 
mon;  will  a  test  of  the  ])ro^r(;ss  which 
our  race  lias  mad(;  in  wisdom  and  virtue 
be  tlerivetl  from  the  veneration  j)aid  to  the  immortal  name  of  \\'ashin«^ton." 

Two  centuries  ai^^o  X'iroinia  was  almost  an  unexplored  wildernc;ss  ;  but  the 
climatt',  the  soil,  th(."  ri\(;rs,  bays,  mountains,  \alleys,  all  combinetl  to  n;nd(;r  it 
on(;  ot  tlu;  most  attractixc  spots  upon  our  l;1o1)<;.  ("wo  voun;^'  brothers,  Law- 
rence and  John  Washington,  we-re  lured  by  these  attractions  to  abandon  th(;ir 
honn;  in  luii^land,  and  seek  their  fortunes  in  this  new  workl.     They  were  both 


.\      VIUi.lNIA    11  AN  l.V  rHiN    CAllWAY. 


?, 


2>i 


34  GliORGIi  :VAS///XGTOX. 

gentlemen.      Lawrence  was  a  fine  scholar,  a  j^fraduate  of  Oxford  ;  John  was  an 
accomplished  man  of  husiiiess. 

The  two  brothers  h.ul  purchasi^d  a  larjji'e  tract  of  land  about  filty  miles 
above:  the  mouth  of  the  I'otomac.  and  on  its  western  banks,  lohn  built  iiim  a 
house,  and  married  Anne  l'o[je.  .\uL,''ustine,  his  s('c<ind  son,  inh(;rited  the 
paternal  homeste'ad.  Augustine's  first  wife.  Jane  i^utler.  as  lovely  in  character 
as  sIk;  was  beautiful  in  person,  tlied,  leavinj.^  three  little  motherless  children. 
The  disconsolate;  father,  in  th(;  course  of  years,  found  another  mother  for  his 
bereaved  household. 

He  was  singularly  fortunate  in  his  choice.  Mary  Uall  was  everythini;-  that 
husbanil  or  chiUl  conkl  desire.  .She  was  beautiful  in  person,  intellii^MMit,  accom- 
plisht.'d,  energetic  and  prudent,  and  a  warm  hearted  Christian.  Au!.nistine  and 
Mary  were  married  on  thi;  6th  of  March.  1730.  ( )n  the  22tl  of  I'Cbruary.  1732. 
th(;y  received  into  their  arms  their  first-born  child.  Little  did  they  dream,  as 
they  bore  their  babe  to  the  baptismal  font  and  called  him  (ii'orj^e  irds/iiiii^/oii. 
that  that  name  was  to  become  one  of  the  most  memorable  in  the  annals  of 
time. 

];(AHo(ii)  DAYS. 

L'rom  earliest  childhood  Geori^e  developed  a  very  noble  character.  He  had 
a  vigorous  constitution,  a  fine  form,  and  i,rreat  bodily  strem^th.  In  childhood  he 
was  noted  {ov  frankness,  fearlessness,  and  moral  courage  ;  and  yet  far  removed 
from  manifestin(,'-  a  quarrelsome  spirit.  He  never  tyrannized  over  others  ;  and 
none  were  found  to  attem[)t  to  tvrannize  over  him. 

After  tweKe  hapjjy  years  of  union  with  Mary  ISall,  when  George  was  but 
ten  years  of  a^e,  AuL,nistine  W'asliin^ton  died,  leaving;'  Georj^e  and  fue  other 
chiklren  fatherless.  The  mother  was  ecpial  to  the  task  thus  imposed  upon  her. 
The  confuh'nce  of  her  husband  in  her  judi^Mnent  antl  maternal  love  is  indicated 
by  the  fact  that  he  left  the  income  of  the  entire  property  to  her  until  her  children 
should  respectively  coir.e  of  aj^ai.  Xobly  she  dischartj^ed  the;  task.  A  nation's 
homat^e  (.gathers  around  the'  memory  of  the  mother  of  Washington.  Life's 
severe  discipline  developed  a  character  simple,  sincere,  i^rave,  cheered  with 
earnest  and  unost(;ntatious  pi(*t\'.  Her  well-balanced  mind  j^ave  her  ^reat  inllu- 
ence  over  her  son,  which  she  retained  until  the  hour  of  h(;r  death. 

Mrs.  Alexander  Hamilton  tells  the  story  that,  when  GeoriLj^e  Washin^^ton 
was  in  the  meridian  of  his  fame,  a  brilliant  j)artv  was  L;iven  in  his  honor  at 
l'"redtn'icksl)ui'L;-,  \"a.  When  the  church-bell  ran^;-  the  hour  of  nine,  his  mother 
rose  and  saiil.  "Gome,  Geori^e,  it  is  nine;  ei'clock  :  it  is  time  for  us  te)  o-o  home." 
GeorL,''e,  like;  a  dutiful  son,  offereel  he-r  his  arm,  anel  they  retired.  Mrs.  Hamil- 
ton aelmits,  howeve;r,  that  after  \Vashino;ton  hael  seen  his  mother  safelv  home 
he  returne'd  to  tlv;  party. 

At  sixteen  ve;ars  of  atre  George,  then  a  man  in  character,  anel  almost  a  mar> 


LIFE  /X  THE  WlI.nERXESS.  35 

in  stature,  left  school,  lie  excelled  in  mathematical  studies,  and  h.ul  become 
familiar  with  the  principles  of  geometry  anil  trigonometry  and  of  jiractical  sur- 
veying. In  was  then  his  intention  to  become  a  civil  engineer.  At  that  time,  in 
this  new  and  rapidly-growing  country,  there  was  great  demand  lor  such  services, 
and  the  employment  was  very  lucrative.  I  le  had  formeil  his  character  upon  the 
right  model.  Hverything  he  tlid  hi;  ilid  well.  If  he  wrote  a  litter,  every  word 
was  as  plain  as  print,  with  spelling,  capitals,  [)unctualion,  all  correct.  His  dia 
grams  anil  tabk^s  were  never  scribbled  off,  but  all  executed  with  great  beauty. 
These  e.xcellent  habits,  thus  early  formed,  were  retained  through  life. 

L'pon  leaving  school  ("icorge  wiiit  to  spend  a  little  time  with  his  elder 
brother,  Lawrence,  at  Mount  \'ernon.  Then,  as  now,  that  was  an  i-nchanting 
spot.  The  house,  situated  upon  a  swill  of  land,  commanded  an  exti'usive  view 
of  the  Potomac  and  of  tin;  surrounding  country.  It  was  nearly  one  hundred 
miles  above  the  home  of  George.  Lord  b'airfax,  a  man  of  large  fortune  and 
romantic  tastes,  had  been  lured  by  the  charms  of  this  delightful  region  to  i)ur- 
chase  a  vast  territory,  which  extended  far  away,  over  the  lUue  Mountains.  It 
was  a  property  embracing  rivers  and  mountains,  forests  and  prairies,  and  wealth 
un'^xplored.  Lord  Fairfax  was  charmed  with  young  Washington,  his  frankness, 
his  intelligence,  his  manliness,  his  gentlemanly  bearing, —  a  boy  in  years,  a  man 
in  maturity  of  wisdom  and  character  ;  and  he  engaged  this  lad,  then  but  one 
month  over  sixteen  years  of  age,  to  explore  and  survey  these  pathless  wilds,  a 
large  portion  of  which  was  then  ranged  only  by  wild  beasts  and  savage  men.  It 
may  be  doubted  whether  a  lad  of  his  age  e\er  befon;  undertook  a  task  so  ardu- 
ous. With  a  few  attendants,  the  boy  ent<;red  the  wilderness.  We  have  some 
extracts  from  the  journal  which  he  kept,  which  give  us  a  vl\iil  idea  of  the  life  he 
then  led.     Under  date  of  March  15.  174S,  he  writes: — 

"  Worked  hard  till  night,  and  then  retin"nt;d.  After  suijper,  v.e  were  lighted 
into  a  room  :  and  I,  not  being  so  good  a  woodman  as  the  rest,  stripped  myself 
very  orderly,  and  went  into  the  bed,  as  they  call  it,  when,  to  my  surprise,  I  found 
it  to  be  nothing  but  a  little  straw  matted  together,  without  sheet  or  anything  else, 
but  only  one  threadbare  blanket,  with  double  its  weight  of  vermin.  I  was  glad 
to  get  up  and  put  on  my  clothes,  and  lie  as  my  companions  did.  Had  we  not 
been  very  tired,  I  am  sure  we  should  not  have  slept  much  that  night.  I  madi;  a 
promise  to  sleep  so  no  more  in  a  bed,  choosing  rather  to  sleep  in  the  ojjen  air 
before  a  fire." 

Dn  the  2(1  of  April  he  writes,  "A  blowing,  rainy  night.  Our  straw,  upon 
which  we  were  lying,  took  tire  ;  liut  I  was  luckily  |)reserveil  by  one  of  our  mea 
awaking  when  it  was  in  a  llame.     We  have  run  off  four  lots  this  day." 

George  returned  from  this  tramp  with  all  his  energies  consolidated  by  toil, 
peril,  and  hardship.  Though  but  seventeen  years  of  age,  he  was  a  responsible, 
self-reliant  man.     The  .State  of  \'irginia  now  employed  him  as  public  surveyor. 


WAMllNinoN  S    KlXFriKiN    AT    TRlMo.N. 


A  PEKJf.OL'S  JOL'RXEY.  37 

For  thret;  years  he  was  c'n_i,ra,Ljt;d  in  these  laborious  duties,  which  iiitrochiced  him 
to  scenes  of  roniancf  and  .ulventure.  Tiioiinh  In;  oltt'ii.  (hiring;  these  three;  y<'ars, 
visitrd  iiis  nioiher,  his  lie.uli[uarti:rs  werr  with  liis  brother  .it  .\h)unt  X'ernoii,  as 
tiiis  was  ;niuh  nearer.  Lonl  I'airfax,  whcj,  it  is  said,  was  the  victim  of  a  lo\tj 
disapixiintment,  had  btiiU  him  a  substantial  stone  mansion  in  the  \alley  beyond 
the  lihie  KidLje,  whi  re  he  was  liviiiL,'^  in  a  sort  ot  Inironial  splendor,  antl  whe're 
Georgt;  w.is  an  e\er  welconn;  j;uest. 

MISSION    'lo     iiii;    IKl.NCIl    CO.MMAMil.K. 

IbninL;'  performetl  his  duty  as  sur\ csor  so  well,  he  was  chosi-n  adjutant- 
jTcneral.  with  the  r.uik  ot  maior,  over  a  portion  oi  tlie  militia  wIiom;  duty  it  was 
to  repel  the  encroachments  of  the  bretich  and  Indians.  In  the  meantime,  how- 
ever, he  was  absent  tour  months  in  ISarbadoes  with  a  sick  brothi;r.  TIk;  next 
year,  beiiiL;  thiMi  twenty-one  years  of  ai^e,  he  was  s(;nt  as  commissioner  by 
Governor  1  )inwiddie  to  tU;manil  of  tin;  I'reiich  commander  why  Ik;  had  iinaded 
the  kiui^'s  colonies,  lor  seven  huntlr(;d  and  tilty  miles,  more  than  half  of  the 
distance  thronijh  an  unbroken  wilderness,  Ik;  madi-  his  wa\',  accompanietl  by 
only  seven  persons;  and  aft(;r  forty-one  days  of  toil,  in  the  mitldle  of  Decem- 
ber he  reached  his  destination,  liavin^-  concludeil  his  mission,  ht;  set  out  in  the 
dead  of  winter  to  retrace  his  dreary  route.  TIk;  horses  after  a  while  o^ave  out, 
and  the;  drivers  were  left  to  take  care  of  them,  whih;  he  and  one  com|)anion 
pushed  on  alone,  on  foot,  throuL,di  the  wilderness.  TravelinL,''  in  this  maniKT, 
they  cauK^  upon  an  Indian,  who,  uiKler  the  prt-tence  of  actiuL,^  as  ^uide,  led  them 
off  their  route,  and  then  shot  at  them.  S])arin<r  his  lite,  contrary  tt)  the  wishes 
of  his  friend,  \Vashins.';ton  soon  t^'-ot  rid  of  him,  and  walked  all  nis^ht  to  csca|)e 
pursuit.  Comin*^^  to  the  Alleghany  river,  they  found  it  only  partly  fro/(;n  over, 
and  here  the  twf)  friemls  lay  down  upon  the  bank  in  tht;  coUl  snow,  with 
nolliin^-  liut  their  blankets  ovt;r  them,  and  thus,  wear\'  aiKl  huuL^r)-,  passed  the 
dreary  nii^ht,  Tht;  next  UKirnin;^'-  they  s(;t  to  work  with  a  sinL;le  hatch(;t  to  build 
a  raft.  They  worked  all  day  loni^-  on  the;  frail  thim^',  aiul  just  after  sunset  suc- 
ceeded in  launchiui^-  it  on  th(;  turbulc;nt  stream.  When  nearly  half  across,  huL;e 
frac^mients  fif  lloatini,''  ice  came  drivins^  down  the  current,  and,  jammin;^'-  against 
the  crazy  f.diric,  jerked  ihem  overboard,  into  ten  feet  of  water.  The;  two 
adventurers  swam  and  wad<'d  to  an  island,  where,  amid  trost  and  sik)w,  wet  to 
the  skin,  without  a  blanket  to  cover  tlK;m  or  a  spark  of  tire,  with  their  clothes 
froz(;n  stiff  upon  their  l)acks,  \.\\v.\  passetl  the  Ioul;',  wintry  niL;ht.  rh(;y  were 
now  without  tlu;  means  of  reaching- either  shore  ;  Init  the  biting-  cold  that  be- 
numbed their  limbs  froze  also  the  river,  so  that  when  mornin<;-  tlawn(;d  it  was 
bridt^ed  over  with  ic(;  betwe(;n  them  and  the  shore.  Hscapiu!^-  the  shot  f)f  the 
Indian,  the  dan!j;ers  of  the  forest,  and  death  by  cold,  they  at  lenj^th,  at"ter  an 
absence  of  eleven  weeks,  arrived  sat"t;ly  at  home. 


3S  GEORGE  WASIIIXGro.y. 

Washington's  jmirnal  of  ihi^  lour  was  puMishcil  in  l,i>n(l<)n,  and  attracted 
much  attiiuion,  as  ii  conlainctl  conchisivc  prdol  ihal  the  I  rriuli  would  r(;sist 
any  attempts  of  tiif  I'.m^lisli  to  establish  their  selllenients  upon  llu-  ( )hio.  The 
LeiL^i^laturt-  of  \  ii'L^ini.i  was  in  session  at  W  illianishur:^  when  Washington 
rt'tnrned.  Modestl)',  and  unconscious  that  he  would  attract  any  attention,  he 
w<-nt  into  th('  i;alli'i-\- to  ol)ser\e  the  proceedini;s,  Ihe  .S[)(.'aker  chance(.l  to  see 
him,  and,  risinL;,  proposed  th.il 

"The  tiianks  of  this  house  \)v.  L^ivcii  to  Major  W'.isliiuL^lon,  who  now  sits  in 
th(;  L^allery.  for  the  gallant  mantur  in  wliich  he  lias  exet  uled  the  important  trust 
lately  repost;d  in  him  by  his  excellency  the  L;('\'ernor.  " 

I'",  very  member  of  the  house  rose  to  his  feet ;  antl  WashiuL^ton  was  greeted 
with  a  simultaneous  and  enthusiastic  burst  of  ap|)lause.  Embarrassed  by  the 
un<;\pe(ted  honor,  and  unaccustomed  to  public  speakini^,  the  youni^  hero  en- 
dea\<>red  in  \ain  to  L;i\e  utterance  to  his  thanks.  (  )ul  of  tliis  |)ainful  dilt;mma 
the  elo(pi<'nt  .Speaker  helpetl  him  as  i.;(MU:rously  as  he  had  helpetl  him  into  it.  "  Sit 
down,  Mr.  \\'ashinL;lon."  saitl  he,  in  his  most  courli!ous  manner,  •' your  mf)desty 
e([uals  your  \alor,  and  that  surpasses  the])owc;r  of  any  lani^uane  that  I  pcjssess." 
NothinL,r  coukl  be  more  elegant  or  skilful  than  this  tlouble  stroke,  which  not  (jnly 
relieved  Washing-ton.  but  [)aid  him  at  the  same  lime  the  hii^hest  com[)liment  that 
could  be  bestowt'd. 

iii<Ai)i)()(  k's  i:\i'i:iii  iioN. 

ICarly  in  the  spring;' of  1755  (ieneral  ih\uldock.  a  self-conceite-d,  stubborn 
man.  land<'d  in  \  ir^inia  with  two  ret^iments  of  reij^ular  troops  from  Oreat 
Hritain.  Arrogant  in  the  ])ride  of  his  tt-chnlcal  military  education,  he  despised 
ahke  I'renchmen,  Indians,  ami  colonists.  With  his  hjrce,  Hraddock  started  on 
a  march  lhroui.;'h  the  wilderiu;ss  for  the  reduction  of  bort  Ducpiesne.  Wasliini^- 
ton  accompanied  him  as  volunti'cr  aid.  \\\  a  strao^linoline  four  miles  in  lenu^th, 
this  army  of  two  tlKnisand  men.  totally  unac([uainled  with  Indian  warfare,  and 
thorouyhl)'  despising-  such  barbaric  foes,  commenced  its  march,  with  ponderous 
artillery  and  a  cumbrous  ba}.[ji^a|;X<-''tnun,  throui^h  the  forest,  for  the  distant  jinic- 
tion  of  the  AlleL^hau}-  and  the  Monon^ahela.  Washini^toii,  who  well  knew  the 
foe  thev  were  to  encounter,  was  alarmed  at  this  recklessness,  and  ursjed  ureater 
caution.  The  regular  British  L,''eneral  was  not  to  be  taught  the  art  of  war  by  a 
provincial  colonel,  who  had  never  even  seen  the  inside  of  a  military  school.  Sue 
cessfuUy  they  had  threaded  the  wilderness,  and  on  a  beautihd  summer's  day  they 
wt.-re  exnltinL;ly  marching-  alom^-  the  banks  of  the  Monom^ahela.  when  they 
entered  a  detile  of  picturesepie  b(>auty. 

.Sudd(!nly,  like  th(!  burst  of  thunder  from  the  cloutiU'ss  heavens,  came  the 
crash  of  musketry,  and  a  tempest  of  lead  s\v;'pt  through  their  ranks.  Crash 
fcjlknvetl  crash  in  (piick  succession,  bi'forc,  behind,  on  tlu;  ri^ht.  on  the  left.  Xo 
foe  was  to  be  seen  :  yet  every  bullet  accomplished  its  mission.     The  ground  was 


JiKADDOCK'S  D 1. 1- EAT.  y) 

soon  covcrt'd  with  tin-  dtad  and  wourKUd.  .\ina/(.;inciit  and  consternation  ran 
lhniiiL;li  thf  rank-..  An  unsci-n  lot;  was  a^sailin^•  them,  liraddoik  stootl  iiis 
'^roinid  with  hull  ilo;^^  coiirai;*',  nntil  h<!  iVll,  picrcnl  by  a  biilltt.  When  nearly 
halt  of  tht;  army  wiiri"  shiin,  the  rcnmanl  broke  in  wild  disorder  and  lied.  Tlu' 
ambush  was  eniirt;l\'  siu  (.'essrul.  Six  lunulred  of  ihi-st;  unseen  assailants  were 
Indi.uis.  They  made  the  lon'sl  rin^;'  with  their  derision  in  scorn  ot'  the  tolly  ol 
liraddoik. 

W'asliiunton,  throu'.^h  this  awful  srene,  w  hii-h  In;  had  been  constantly  antici- 
paliu'^.  was  pertecti)  collected,  and,  with  the  coolest  ct)uraj;e,  did  everylhinLj 
which  human  saL^acity  couUI  do  to  retrie\e  the-  disaster.  'l"wo  horses  wer<'  .-ihot 
beueaih  him,  ;ind  tour  l)ullets  jiassed  ihrouL;h  his  coat,  lu^ht  hundred  ol  l>rad- 
tlo(k's  army,  including'  most  ot  the  otticers,  were  either  dead  or  wounded. 
W  ashinL;lon  r.dlied  around  him  tlu;  te-w  proxincials,  upon  whom  llratldock  hail 
looked  with  contem[)t.  Each  man  instantly  placed  himself"  behind  a  tree, 
accordini,''  to  the  necessities  of  t'orest  wartare.  As  the  Indians  burst  from  theit 
ambush,  the  unerrini^  tire  ot"  the  proxincials  checked  them  and  dro\-e  them  back. 
Hut  for  this  thi;  army  would  have  been  utterly  destroyed.  .\ll  W'ashinj^ton's 
endeavors  to  rally  the  Dritish  re^uhu's  were  unavailinj^-.  Indii^nantly  Ik-  writes. 
"  1  hey  ran  like  sli(;ep  before  the  hounds."  I'anic-strickeii.  abandoning  artillery 
and  ba^'L;aL,H;,  they  continued  their  tumultuous  retreat  to  the  .\tlantic  coast.  1  he 
provincials,  in  orderly  march,  protected  them  from  pursuit.  Iiraddock's  det'eat 
rauL;'  throuL;h  the  land  as  Washington's  victory.  The  provincials,  who.  submit- 
ting- to  military  authority,  had  allowed  tliemselves  to  bi;  led  into  this  \alley  of 
ileath,  jjroclaimed  far  and  wide  the  precautions  which  W'ashiiiL^'^ton  had  uri^eil, 
and  the  h>;roisin  with  which  hi;  had  rescued  the  remnant  of  the  army. 

The  [•"rench  made  no  att(;mpt  to  pursue  their  advantaL;c.  but  quietly  retired 
to  \'ox\.  I  )u(|uesiii'.  then;  to  await  another  assault,  should  the  I'.nL^lish  decide  to 
make  one.  A  torci"  of  about  sexcn  hundred  men  was  raised,  and  |)laceil  under 
the  command  of  W'asliinj^ton,  to  protect  the  scattered  villages  and  (lucllinj^s  of 
this  vast  frontier.  l"or  threi;  years  Washington  L;ave  all  his  eneri^ies  to  this 
arduous  enterprise.  It  would  require  a  volume  to  record  the  awful  scenes 
throuL,di  which  he  })assed  durinLj;-  these  three  years. 

In  XoN'ember,  175S,  bort  Huquesne  was  wrested  from  the  I'rench.  and  the 
valley  of  the  Ohio  passed  from  their  control  forever.  The  Canadas  soon  after 
surri;nileri;d  to  Wolfe,  and  i'aiu;lish  supremacy  was  established  upon  this  conti- 
.nent  witliout  a  rival. 

Washington  was  now  twentv-six  years  of  ai;e.  The  beautiful  estate;  of 
Mount  \'ernon  had  descended  to  him  by  inheritance.  ( )n  the  6th  of  January, 
175Q,  he  married  Mis.  Martha  Custis,  a  lady  of  L;r<;at  worth  and  be.ait)-.  Wash- 
ington was  already  wealtln- :  and  his  wife  brought  with  her,  as  Ivr  dower,  a 
fortune   of  one  himdred  thousand  dollars.      After  the  tumultuous  scenes  of  his 


BARON  f.THl'DBN.      GOV.  AKTHIIK  ST.  CLAIK.  SI-:t:  Y  SAMUEL  A.  OTIS.  KiKiI-:H  SHIIKMAN. 

CHANCKLLOK  HftUKKl   H.  LIVINGSTON.  GBORGK  WASHINGTON. 


GOV.  GEOKGH  CLINION. 

GKN'L  HUNKY  KNOX 


WASHING'ION  TAKING  THE   OATH    A.S   PRESIDENT, 

APRIL    30,  I7S9,    ON    TIIK   SITK   OF    THE    PRESKNT    TREASUKV    liUILUING,  WALL   STRKET,    NEW    YORK   CITV. 

Virginia  gave  us  tliis  imperial  man, 

Cast  in  tile  massive  mould 

Of  those  lUHli-stalureil  ages  old 

Which  into  tn'ander  forms  our  mortal  metal  ran  ; 


Mother  of  States  and  undiminished  men, 
Thou  Kivest  us  a  Country,  giving  him. 

—Jambs  Kussell  Lowell. 


THE  BEG/XX/XG  01'   WAR.  4I 

youth,  he  rcitircd  with  his  bride  ami  hi;r  two  chiklrcn  to  the  lovely  retreat  of 
Mount  X'ernon,  where  he  spent  lifteen  years  of  almost  unalloyeil  happiness. 
He  enlarf,''ecl  th(;  mansion,  emhellished  tin;  grounds,  and  by  purchase  matle  very 
considerable  additions  to  his  larL,^e  estate. 

()fi'nKi;.\K  iiF   iiiK  Ki:\'ii.L"ri(.)N'. 

DurinL,^  these  sertMie  y(;ars  of  p(;ac(.-  ;ind  prosperity  an  appalling'  storiii  was 
J^atherin'^^  which  soon  burst  with  tearful  desolation  over  all  the  colonies.  The 
British  ministry,  denyiuL";  th(=  colonists  th(i  rii^hts  of  llritish  subjects,  insisted 
upon  e\(n"cisini4'  the  ilespotic  power  of  im|)Osini^-  taxes  upon  the  colonists,  while 
withholdini^'-  the  ri^ht  of  rei)r(;sentati()n.  All  American  remonstrances  were 
thrown  back  with  scorn.  Troops  were  sent  to  enforce  obedience?  to  tlu^  man- 
dates of  the  British  Crown.  The  Americans  spranq' to  arms,  called  a  Congress, 
and  chose  George  Washington  commander-in-c.iief. 

To  the  Congrt'ss  which  elect(.'d  him  he  rcplietl  :  "I  beg  leave  to  assure  the 
Congress  that,  as  no  pecuniary  consideration  could  have  tem|)ted  me  to  accept 
this  arduous  employment  at  i\\v.  expense  of  my  domestic  ease  and  happiness, 
I  do  not  wish  to  make  any  jirofit  from  it.  I  will  keep  an  e.xact  account  of  my 
expenses.     Those,  I  doubt  not,  they  will  discharge.      That  is  all  I  dt-sire." 

To  his  wife,  the  object  of  his  most  tciuler  affection,  Ik?  wrote  that  it  was  his 
greatest  affliction  to  be  se])arated  from  her,  but  that  duty  called,  and  he  must 
obey.  He  said  that  he;  could  not  declim;  the  a|)pointment  without  dishonoring 
his  name,  antl  sinking  himself  (;ven  in  her  esteem. 

On  the  2d  of  July  Washington  arrived  in  Cambridge  and  took  command 
of  t'ae  army.  TIk;  ceremony  took  place  unthn-  the  elm-trin;  which  still  stands 
immortalized  by  the  e\ent.  ( iiMieral  Cage  was  commander  of  the  British  forces. 
Twelve  thousand  British  regulars  wert;  intrenched  on  lUmker's  llill  and  in  the 
streets  of  Boston.  About  fifteen  thousand  proxincial  militia,  wretchedly  armed 
and  without  any  discipline,  occupied  a  line  nearly  twt^lve  miles  in  ext(Mit,  en- 
circling, on  the  land  side,  Charl(,'stown  and  Boston.  The  British  war-ships  held 
undispuled  possession  of  the  harbor. 

At  length,  in  March,  1776,  after  months  of  toil  and  surmounting  difficulties 
more;  than  can  be  enumerated,  Washington  was  prepared  for  decisive  action. 
In  a  dark  and  stormy  night  ht;  opciKxl  upon  the  foe  in  th(!  city,  from  his  encir- 
cling lines,  as  tierce  a  bombardment  as  his  means  would  allow.  I'nder  cover  of 
this  roar  of  the  batteries  and  the  mitlnight  storm,  \-\v.  dispatched  a  large  force  o'' 
picked  troops,  with  the  utmost  s(;cn,'cy,  to  take  possession  of  the  Heights  of 
Dorchester.  There,  during  the  hours  of  the  night,  the  soldii'rs  worked  with  the 
utmost  ililigence  in  throwing  u[)  breastworks  which  would  protect  them  from  the 
broadsides  of  the:  iuiglish  lleet.  Having  establishetl  his  batteries  upon  those 
heights,  he  commanded  the  harbor. 


42  GEORGE  WASIIIXGTOX. 

In  th(;  early  dawn  of  the  inorniiiL;',  the  Iiritish  Achnh-al  saw,  to  his  cori' 
sternation,  that  a  fort  bristHnn-  with  cannon  had  sprunLC  "-'P  during-  the  night 
ahiiost  over  his  li(;ad.  lie  immediately  opened  upon  the  works  the  broadsides 
of  all  his  ships  ;  but  the  Americans,  detiant  of  the  storm  of  iron  which  fell 
arountl  them,  continued  to  pile  their  sand-bags  and  to  ply  thtir  shovels,  until 
they  had  thrown  up  ramparts  so  strong  that  no  cannonade;  could  injure  them. 
The  ISritish  tleet  was  now  at  the  mercy  of  Washington's  batteries.  In  a  spirit 
almost  of  desperation,  llie  Admiral  ordered  three  thousand  men  in  boats  to  land 
and  take  the  heights  at  e\ery  hazard.  Hut  a  great  storm  came  to  the  aid  of 
the  colonists.  'J"he  gale  increased  to  such  tury  that  not  a  boat  could  be  launched. 
Before  another  day  and  night  had  passed  the  redoubt  was  made  so  strong  that 
it  could  defy  any  attack. 

It  was  the  morning  of  the  i  7th  of  March,  1776.  The  storm  had  passed 
away.  The  blue  skv  overarched  tin;  beleaguered  city  and  the  encamping  armies. 
Washington  sat  upon  his  horse,  serene;  and  majestic,  and  contemplated  in  silc;nt 
triumph,  from  the  Heights  of  1  )orchester,  tht;  evacuation  of  P)Oston.  The 
whole  l)ritish  army  was  crowded  on  board  the  shii)s.  A  tresh  breeze  from  the 
west  till(;d  their  sails  ;  and  the  hostile  armament,  before  the  sun  went  down,  had 
disappeared  beyond  the  distant  horizon.  It  was  a  glorious  victory.  Such 
another  case;,  perhaps,  history  does  not  record.  Washington,  7^'itJtout  auDiiuiii- 
tioii,  had  maintained  his  post  for  six  months  within  musket-shot  of  a  powerful 
British  army.  During  this  time  he  had  disbantled  the  small  force  of  raw  militia 
he  at  first  had  with  him,  and  had  recruited  another  army;  and  had  then  driven 
the  enemy  into  his  shi|)s,  and  out  into  the  sea. 

The  latter  part  of  June,  just  before;  the  Declaration  of  Indei)endence,  two 
large  British  ll<;(;ts,  one  from  Halifax  and  the;  oth(;r  dir(;ct  from  England,  met  at 
the  mouth  of  the;  liay  of  \(;w  \'ork,  anil,  disembarking  a  powerful  army,  took 
possession  of  .Staten  Island.  Washington  had  assembled  all  his  available  mili- 
tary force  to  resist  their  advances.  The;  British  ( iovernment  r(\gar(l(;d  the  leadi;rs 
of  the  armies,  and  their  support(;rs  in  Congress,  as  felons,  doomed  to  the  scaflold. 
They  n'fus(;d,  conse([ueiitly,  to  recognize  any  titlt;s  conferred  by  Congress. 

By  the  middhi  of  .\ugust  the  British  hael  assembleel,  on  .Staten  Island  and 
at  the  mouth  of  ilu;  Hudson  River,  a  force  of  nearly  thirty  thousaml  soldiers, 
with  a  niunerous  and  w(;lbe([ui|)peel  lleet.  To  oppose  them  Washington  had 
rabout  twt;lve  thousanel  men,  ])oorly  armed,  and  cpiite  imaccustomed  to  military 
discipline  and  the  harilships  of  the  cam|).  A  f<;w  regiments  of  American  troops, 
about  five  thousand  in  number,  W(;re  gatheri'd  near  l^rooklyn.  .\  few  thousand 
more  were  stationed  at  odi(;r  ])oints  on  Long  Island.  The;  I\nglish  landed  with 
out  op|")osition,  fifteen  thousanel  strong,  and  made  a  combineel  assault  upon  the 
Ame'ricans.  The  battle  was  short,  but  liloe^dy.  The  Americans,  overpowered, 
sullenly  retired,  leaving   fifteen  hundred  of  their  number  either  dead  or  in  the 


A  CAMPAIGX  OF  RETREATS.  43 

hands  of  the  Hnylish.  A  vastly  superior  force  of  well-trained  British  troops, 
(lushed  with  victory,  pressed  upon  the  rear  of  the  dispirited  colonists.  Iheir 
situation  seemed  desperate. 

A^ain  Providence  came  to  our  aid.  The  wind  died  away  to  a  perfect  calm, 
so  that  the  Ih'itish  tleet  could  not  move.  A  dense  fog-  was  rolled  in  from  the 
ocean.  The  Americans,  familiar  with  every  foot  of  the  ground,  improved  the 
')ropitious  moments.  Boats  were  rapidly  collected  ;  and,  in  the  few  hours  of 
that  black  night,  nine  thousand  men,  with  nearly  all  their  artillery  and  military 
stores,  were  safely  landed  in  New  \  (^rk.  The  trans[)i)rtation  was  conducted  so 
secretly  that,  though  the  .Americans  could  hear  the  linglish  at  work  with  their 
picka.xes,  the  last  boat  had  left  the  Long  Island  shore  ere  the  retreat  was  sus 
pected. 

The  American  army  was  now  in  a  deplorable  condition.  It  had  neither  arms, 
ammunition,  nor  tocjd.  The  soldiers  wtn'e  un[;aid,  almost  mutincnis,  aiul  in  rags. 
There  were  ihousands  in  the  vicinity  of  New  York  who  were  in  sympathy  with 
the  British.  Nearly  all  the  CJovernment  officials  and  their  friends  were  on  that 
side.  A  conspiracy  was  formed,  in  which  a  part  of  Washington's  own  guartl 
was  im|)licated,  to  seize  him,  and  deliver  him  to  that  ignominious  death  to  which 
the  British  Crown  had  doomed  him. 

Washington  was  equal  to  the  crisis.  He  saw  that  the  only  hope  was  to  be 
found  in  avoiding  an  engagement,  and  in  wearing  out  the  resources  of  the  enemy 
in  protracted  campaigns.  He  slowly  retired  from  New  York  to  the  Heights  of 
Harlem,  with  slec^jiless  vigilance  watching  every  movement  of  the  foe,  that  he 
might  take  advantage  of  the  slightest  indiscretion.  Here  he  threw  up  breast- 
works, which  tilt;  enemy  did  not  venture  to  attack.  The  British  troo[)s  ascended 
the  Hudson  and  East  Rive-r  to  assail  Washington  in  his  rear.  .\  weary  cam- 
paign of  marches  and  counter-marches  ensued,  in  which  Washington,  with 
scarcely  a  shadow  of  an  army,  sustainetl,  in  the  midst  of  a  constant  succession 
of  disasters,  the  apparently  hopeless  fortunes  of  his  country.  At  one  time 
General  Reed  in  anguish  c,\claimetl, — 

"  My  God  !  General  Washington,  how  long  shall  we  tly  ?" 

.Serenely  Washington  replied,  "We  shall  retreat,  if  necessary,  over  every 
river  of  our  country,  and  th(,'n  over  the  mountains,  where  I  will  make  a  last  stand 
against  our  enwrnies." 

Tin-     XKW    jF.RSKV    CAMI'AKiN. 

Washington  crosseil  the  Hudson  into  the  Jerseys.  The  British  pursued 
nim.  With  consummate  skill,  he  liaftled  all  the  efforts  of  the  foe.  Withanarmy 
nxluced  to  a  freezing,  star\ing  baml  of  but  three  thousand  men,  he  retr(>ated  to 
1  renton.  The  British  prt^ssed  exultantly  on,  deeming  the  conllict  <Mided  and  the 
Revolution  crushetl.  It  was  Decemlxn*.  The  foe  tracked  the  patriots  by  the 
blood  of  their  lacerated  feet  on  the  frozen  ground.     With  great  difficulty  Wash- 


3   s 


53  5 

u  ^ 

z  ^ 

o  6 

z  i 


THE  SURPRISE  AT  TRENTOX.  45 

ln""ton  succecdL'cl  in  crossing-  the  Delaware  in  boats,  just  as  the  British  army 
arrived  upon  tiie  banks  of  the  stream.  They  needed  but  to  cross  the  river  to 
tak(;  possession  of  Philadelphia.  The  ici:  was  so  ra[)idly  formiuL;-  that  tlu;y 
Aoukl  soon  be  able  to  [jass  at  any  point  without  obstruction.  The  enemy,  with 
apparently  nothing  to  fear,  relaxed  his  \igilance. 

Tlu;  night  of  December  J5,  1776,  was  ver\' dark  and  intensely  cold.  A 
storm  of  wind  anil  snow  raged  violently.  The  liritish,  considering  the  patriot" 
utterlv  disjjersed,  aiul  that  a  broad,  icy  river  llowed  between  them  and  the 
retreating  American  bands,  gatlu'reil  around  the  tiresides.  In  the  darkness  of 
th  It  wintry  night,  and  amidst  the  conllict  of  its  elitinents,  Washington  re- 
embarked  his  troops  to  recross  the  Delaware;.  I'Orcing  his  boats  through  the 
lloating  blocks  of  ice,  he  succeedi;tl,  before  daylight  the  ne.xt  morning,  in  land- 
ing upon  the  op[)osite  shore  twcMity-four  hundred  men  and  twenty  piec(;s  of 
cannon.  The  British  were  carelessly  tlispersed,  not  dreaming  of  danger.  The 
Americans  sprang  upon  the  fn'st  body  of  the  foe  they  met,  and,  alter  a  short 
but  blootly  strife,  scattered  diem,  capturing  a  thousand  jirisoners  and  six  cannon. 
The  British  retreated  to  Princeton,  and  Washington  took  possession  of  Trenton. 
Soon  Lord  Cornwallis,  having  received  large  reinforcements,  marched  upon 
Trent<Mi,  confident  that  deneral  Washington  could  no  hjnger  escape  them.  At 
the  close  of  a  bleak  winter  day  his  army  appeared  before  the  liiu;s  which 
W'ashington  had  thrown  up  around  Trenton.  "To-morrow,"  he  said,  "at  die 
break  of  day,  I  will  attack  them.  'The  rising  sun  shall  see  tlu;  i^w^  of  tlu; 
rebellion." 

'The  Sim  n)se  the  next  morning,  cold  but  cloudless.  In  the  night  the 
American  army  had  vanished.  l^e|)lenishing  his  camp-fires  to  deceive  th(! 
('iieiny,  at  midnight,  with  the  utmost  precaution  ami  precipitation,  he  evacuated 
his  camp,  and,  by  a  circuitous  route,  fell  ui)oii  the  rear  of  the  pjiglish  at  Prince- 
ton. A  hundred  and  sixty  of  the  British  were  shot  down,  and  thre<;  hundred 
were  taken  prisoners. 

Cheered  by  this  success,  Washington  led  his  handful  of  troops  to  the 
Heights  ot  Morristown.  There  he  intrenched  them  for  winteripiarters.  He, 
however,  sent  out  fre(pient  detachments,  which  so  harassed  the  enemy  that,  in  a 
short  time.  New  Jersey  was  delivered  from  their  presence.  The  country  was 
animated  by  these  achievements,  and  Congress  roustnl  itsttlf  to  new  energies. 

During  the  remainder  of  the  winter  vigorous  eflbrts  were  math;  in  prepara- 
tion for  tlu!  o[)ening  of  the  si)ring  cam|)aign.  'TIk;  different  .States  sent  troo|)s 
to  join  the  army  at  ^^)rristowll.  'The  people  of  p'rance,  in  sympathy  with  our 
cause,  sent  two  vessels.  'TIk;  Manpiis  de  1  ,af  uctte  left  his  mansion  of  o|Milence, 
and  his  youthful  bride,  to  peril  his  life  in  the  cause  of  American  independence 
Hie  British,  harassed  by  Washington's  sle'e[)less  vigilance,  vet  unable  to  compel 
him  or  to  lure  him  into  a  geni^ral  engagement,  left  New  York  in  a  lleet,  with 


46 


GEORGE  WASHINGTON. 


eif^fhtecii  thousaml  soldiers,  to  capture  I'hikuUilphia.  They  landed  near  I-dkton, 
at  the  head  of  Chesapeake  Day.  W'ashin^rton,  with  but  eleven  thousand  men, 
marched  to  encounter  them.  The  two  armies  UK't  on  the  hanks  c)f  the  Hrandy- 
wine.  A  bloody  battle  ensued.  Lataye-tte  was  woundcnl.  The  Americans, 
overpowered,  w(jre  compelled  to  retreat.  W  ashini^^ton.  after  a  short  but  severe 
en<ia''<-ment  at  Ciermantown,  retired,  and  the  IJritish  look  possessio!i  of  I'hiki- 
del[;hia. 

Con^rr(-*ss  precipitately  adiourned  to  Lancaster,  and  thc'iice  to  York. 
Winter  ai^ain  came.  The  British  were  comtortably  housed  in  Philadelphia. 
WashiuL^ton  selected  \'al!ey  b'or^j^e,  alxjut  twenty  miles  from  Philadel|)hia.  as  his 
winter-quarters.      Lileven   thousand    m(.;n   herc^  passed    the  winter  of  1777   and 


OLD  BlR^ll^OH^M  MErrifu&HOuSf 

^'<'    BATTLE    •{   BRANDv  Wl  NE 

1778.  It  was  a  pt'riod  of  ^T(;at  discouraL^cment  and  sufferint^.  The  armv  was 
in  a  stale  of  dcslilution,  which  Washington  did  not  dare  to  proclaim  abroad,  lest 
the  toe  -.liould  rush  upon  him  in  his  helplessness. 

In  this  dark  hour  ['ranee  cami;  forwartl  to  our  aitl ;  recoL^nizinc^r  our  inde- 
pemlence  enterint^'-  into  a  friendly  alliance  with  us,  and  sentlini,''  both  a  lleet  and 
an  army  to  our  support.  The  Pritish  arm\'  in  Xew  York  anil  Philadelphia 
amounted  to  ihirl\'  tliousand  ukmi.  Thi'  whole  .XnnTican  armv  did  ncit  exceed 
fiftetMi  thousand,  liut  the  liritish.  apprehensive  that  a  JM'ench  lleet  mii^ht  soon 
ap|)ear,  and  thus  endani^er  the'  troo|)s  in  Philadelphia,  evacuated  the  city,  and 
th(;  troops  commenced  their  march  through  Xew  Jersey.  The  cold  of  winter 
had  t^nven  place  to  the  heat  of  summer. 


IJ-h'S  TR/:AtH/-.RY. 


47 


\Vashint;'ton  followiHl  close;  in  tin    ri-ar  ot  the  loc,  watchint;-  for  a  clir.iicx'  to 
strike.     Tilt;  jSth  of  juiu',  177S,  was  a  (.lay  of  intt'iisc   heat.      Not  a  breath  of 
air  was   stirriii:^-,    whili-    an   iiiu'li>u(lecl   sun    poured 
clou  11  its  blisicrini;"  ra\'s  upon  pursuers  and  pursui:(l.  r '■'■) 

The  I iritish  troops  were  at  Moiuiujuth.       l  he  march  ^/        -' 

of  one  more  day  woulil  so  unite  tlu-m  wii'n  tin:  army  "'W^K        ■      '''-  '    '  ' 

in    Xew    ^'ork    that 
they    would    be    sate 


••* 


wa-him;  I'lN  i;rrR(i\iNi;  1 1  i:  AT 

.Nh'NMol  'I  11. 

from  attack.    Cicneral  Lee,  with 

fi\-e   thousand   men,  was   in  tin 

advanci'.       \\'ashinL;ti>n      sent 

orders    to   him   immediately    to 

■  ...-.  commence   the   onset,   with  the 

assurance  that  he  would  hasten 
to  Ills  support.  As  Washington  was  pressin^,^  eagerly  forward,  to  his  inctxpres- 
sible  chagrin   he  met  Cieneral   Lee  at  the  head  of  his  troops,  in  full  retreat.      It 


48  GEORGE  WASHINGTON. 

is  said  that  \VashiiiL,fton,  with  i^ac^at  veht'iiKMicc  of  manner  antl  utterance,  ciied 
out,  "(ien(;ral  Lee,  what  nuians  this  iil-tiined  prudence?"  The  retreating 
General  threw  back  an  an^^ry  retort.  lUit  it  was  no  lime  tor  alti.'rcation. 
Washins^-ton  lurnetl  to  tht;  iiUMi.  I  hey  .greeted  him  with  cliee-rs.  At  his  com- 
mand they  whrtlcd  about  and  charL^ed  the  enemy.  A  san<^llinary  buttle 
ensued,  and  the  I'aij^lish  were  driven  from  the  field.  The;  colonists  slept  upor 
their  arms,  prepared  to  rentnv  the  battle  in  the  morning-.  When  thi;  morning 
dawned,  no  foe  was  to  Ix;  seen.  The  iSritish  had  retreated  in  the  ni'dit,  leavincj 
three  hundred  of  their  dead  behind  them.      The  AnnM-icans  lost  but  sixty-nine. 

n.\RK    DAN'S    <>K     llli;    WAR. 

Another  cold  and  cheerhtss  winter  came.  The;  British  remained  within 
thi-ir  lines  at  Xew  York.  They  sent  agents,  howe\er,  to  the  Six  Xatit)ns  of 
Indians,  to  arm  th(Mii  against  our  defenseless  tronti(;r.  Tliese  tierce  savages, 
accom[)anied  by  Tory  bands,  perpetrated  horrors  too  dreatltul  tor  recital.  'Ihe 
massacres  of  Cherry  \'alley  and  of  WAoming  were  among  the  most  awful  trage- 
(.lies  ever  witnessed  on  this  globe;.  The  narrative  of  these  fiendish  deeds  sent  a 
thrill  of  horror  through  luiglanil  as  well  as  America.  I*"oin"  thousand  men  were 
sent  by  Washington  into  the  wilderness,  to  arrest,  if  possible,  these  massacres. 
The  savages  and  their  alliens  were  driven  to  Niagara,  where  they  were  received 
into  an  Juiglish  fortress,  (ieneral  Clinton  commenced  a  vigorous  prosecution  of 
a  system  of  violence  and  plunder  upon  defenseless  towns  and  farm-houses.  The 
sky  was  redden(,;d  with  wanton  conllagration.  Women  and  children  were  driven 
houseless  into  the  tields.  The  flourishing  towns  of  Fairtield  and  Norwalk,  in 
Connecticut,  were  reduced  to  ashes. 

While  the  (Miemy  was  thus  ravaging  that  defenseless  State,  Washington 
planned  an  expedition  against  Stony  Point,  on  thti  I  ludson,  which  was  held  by 
the  British.  (General  Wayne  conducted  the  enter])rise,  on  the  night  of  the  15th 
of  July,  with  great  gallantry  and  success.  .Sixty-three  of  the  British  were  killed, 
five  hundred  and  forty-three  were  taken  prisoners,  and  all  the  military  stores  of  the 
fortress  capturetl.  1  )uring  this  summer  campaign  the  American  army  was  never 
sufficiently  strong  to  take  the  oft'ensixe.  It  was,  however,  incessantly  employed 
striking  blows  upon  the  b'nglish  wherever  the  eagle  eye  of  Washington  could 
discern  an  exposed  spot. 

The  winter  of  1779  set  in  early,  and  with  unusual  severity.  The  American 
army  was  in  such  a  starving  condition  that  Washington  was  compelled  to  make 
the  utmost  ex'-rtions  to  save  his  wasting  band  trom  annihilation.  These  long 
years  of  war  and  wiu;  tilled  many  even  ot  tlie  most  sanguine  hearts  with  despair, 
Xor,  a  few  patriots  ileemed  it  madness  tor  the  colonies,  impoverished  as  they 
were,  any  longer  to  contcMid  against  the  richest  and  most  powerful  nation  upon 
the  globe.     General  Arnold,  who  was  at  this  time  in  command  at  West  Point 


THE  WAR  IS  THE  SOUTH.  49 

saw  no  hope  for  his  country.  !>(  hcviiiL;-  tlic  ship  to  be  sinkini;-,  lie  tunictl  traitor, 
and  offered  to  s(.'ll  his  fortress  to  the  l'ji::;lish.  The  treason  was  detected,  but 
the  traitor  escaped  :  and  the  lanieiiU'd  Anch-r-,  wlio  had  been  hn^ed  into  tlie 
pcjsition  of  a  spy,  became  tht;  necessary  \ictini  of  Arnold's  crime. 

Lord  CornwalHs  was  now,  with  a  well-provid(Hl  army  and  an  assisting;'  navy, 
overrunning"  the  two  Carohnas.  Cieneral  (ireene  was  siiU,  with  all  the  force 
which  Washington  could  ;-,pare,  to  watch  ami  harass  tiie  invaders,  ami  to  furnish 
the  inhabitants  with  all  the  proliHtioii  in  his  -power.  Lafayette  was  in  the 
vicinitv  of  New  \ Ork,  with  his  ca^le  e\'e  tixcd  upon  the  foe,  ready  to  pounce 
upon  any  detachment  which  presented  the  slightest  (!.\posure.  Washington  was 
evervwhere,  with  patriotism  w  hich  nctver  tla^^ed,  with  hope;  which  never  faihxl, 
cheerini,^  the  army,  animatiuL;-  the  inhabitants,  rousini^-  ConL,n-ess,  and  t;uidin,ij;- 
with  his  welbbalanced  mind  l)oth  military  and  civil  legislation.  Thus  the  dreary 
year  of  17S0  linsjered  awav. 

As  the  spring  of  17X1  opened,  the  war  was  renewed.  The  British  directed 
their  chief  attention  to  the  .South,  which  was  far  weaker  than  the  North.  Rich- 
mond, in  X'ir^inia,  was  laid  in  ashes  ;  and  a  general  system  of  devastation  and 
plunder  prevailed.  The  (-Miemy  ascended  thi;  Chesapeake  and  the  I'otomac 
with  arnn^d  vessels.  They  lantled  at  Mount  \'ernon.  The  manager  of  the 
estate,  to  save  the  mansion  from  pillag<;  and  tlames,  furnished  them  with  abun- 
dant supplies.     Washington  was  much  displeasi-d.      1  L;  wrote  to  his  agent  : — 

"  It  would  have  been  a  less  painful  circumstance;  to  me  to  have  heartl  that, 
in  consecpience  of  your  non-compliance  with  their  re([U(;st,  they  had  burni-d  my 
house  and  laiil  thi;  plantation  in  ruins.  You  ought  t(j  have  consitleretl  yoursidf 
as  mv  representative,  and  should  have  rellected  on  tlu-  bad  e.xampK;  of  commu- 
nicating with  the  enemy,  and  making  a  voluntary  otter  of  refreshments  to  th(;m, 
with  a  vi(!w  to  prevent  a  conllagration." 

Lord  CornwalHs  was  now  at  \'orktown,  in  X'irginia,  but  a  tew  miles  frcjm 
Chesi'ipeake  L)ay.  There  was  no  torce  in  his  \icinitv  seriously  to  annoy  him. 
Washington  resoKciI,  in  conjunction  with  our  allies  tVom  I'rance,  to  make  a 
bold  movement  for  his  capture.  .\n  arinv  of  six  ihousaiul  men,  under  Count 
Rochambeau,  had  been  scMit  b\-  Irance  to  aid  tht;  .\merican  cause.  This  army 
with  the  I'rench  tleet,  w(M-e  most  im])ortant  aids  to  Washington.  1  le  succetxled 
*n  deceiving  the  iMiglish  into  the  belief  that  he  was  making  great  preparations 
for  the  siege  of  New  York.  Thus  they  wmv  prevented  from  rendering  any  aid 
:o  Yorklown. 

r)y  rapid  marches  from  th<.'  neighborhood  of  New  York  Washington  has- 
tened to  \'irginia.  ]{arly  in  .Septeml)er  Lord  Cornwallis,  as  he  arose  one  morn- 
ing, was  amazed  to  timl  himself  surrounded  l)y  the  bayonets  and  batteries  of  the 
Americans.  At  about  the  same  hour  the  L'rench  t]eet  appeared,  in  invincible 
strength,  before  the  harbor.  Cornwallis  was  caught.  There  was  no  escape; 
4 


MEEIINO   OF   WAblllNGTO.N    AND    ROCHAMliEAU. 


THE  TRIVMril  Al'  VORKTOWW.  51 

tlirre  was  no  retreat.  Xeitlier  by  laiul  nor  by  sea  coultl  Ik;  ohtaiii  any  supplies. 
Sliot  and  shell  soon  l)e^.in  lo  tall  thickly  into  his  lines,  l-aniini;  st.ireil  him  iti 
the  face,  .\tter  a  few  ilays  of  hopeless  conllict,  on  the  Kith  of  October,  17S1, 
h;-  was  conipelleil  to  surrender.  .Se\cn  thousand  Uriti-^h  \eierans  l.iid  down 
th.eir  arms.  (  )iie  hundred  and  sixty  [)ieces  of  cannon,  with  correspoiuliny  mili- 
tary stores,  _L;nice(l  the  iriiunph. 

When  the  liritish  soldiers  were;  marching;-  from  their  intrenchnients  to  lay 
down  their  arm-^.  W'ashinL^ton  tliiis  aiklressi'd  his  troo[)S  :  "  My  brave  tellows, 
let  no  sens.uion  of  satisfiction  for  the  triuniphs  you  ha\i;  ^ainetl  iiuhice  you  to 
insult  your  fallen  I'liemy.  Let  no  shouting;',  no  clamorous  lui/zaiiiLj,  increase 
their  mortitication.      Posterity  will  hu//a  lor  us." 

This  i^lorious  capture  rousetl  removed  hope  and  xii^or  all  over  the  country. 
The  )oyful  tidiuL^s  reached  I'hihulelphia  at  midnii^ht.  A  watchman  tr.ivers('d  the 
str(;ets,  shoulinL,''  at  intervals.  "Past  twcKc  o'clock,  and  Cornwallis  is  taken'" 
Candles  were  lii^hti'd  :  windows  thrown  up;  fiLjuri's  in  nii^ht-robes  and  nightcaps 
bent  caL,M'rly  out  to  catch  the  thrilling' sound  ;  shouts  wereraiseil  ;  citiztMis  rusheil 
into  the  streets,  half  clad. — they  wept;  they  lauL^hed.  The  news  llew  upon  the 
win^s  of  th(.'  wind,  nobody  can  tell  how  ,  and  the  shout  of  an  enfranchised  pef)ple 
rose,  like  ii  roar  of  thuntler,  from  our  whoh;  land.  With  such  a  victory,  repul>- 
lican  .\merica  would  lU'ver  aj^^ain  yield  to  the  aristocratic  L;()\ernment  of  ICnt^land. 

i-^irly  in  May,  17S2,  the  British  Cabinet  opened  lU'L^'otiations  for  pt.'ace. 
Hostilities  were,  by  each  party,  t;icitl\'  kiitl  aside.  Xe^otiiUions  were  protracted 
in  Paris  durim^;  the  summer  and  the  ensuing-  wintt'r.  Marly  in  the  followin:^^ 
spring-  the  joyful  tidim^s  arrived  that  a  treaty  of  peace  had  been  sii^neil  at  Paris. 
The  intelliL^'^ence  was  communicated  to  the  Am(,'rican  army  on  the;  ic^th  o*\\pril. 
17S;,, — just  cii^ht  years  from  the  ilay  when  the  conllict  was  commenced  on  the 
Coinnion  at  Le\inL;'ton. 

I. ate  in  Xovember  tin;  IJritish  e\acuat(>(l  Xew  York,  entereil  their  ships, 
anil  sailed  for  tlieir  ilistant  island.  Washington,  marchin;^-  from  West  Point, 
entered  the  city  as  our  vaiKjuished  foes  departed,  .\merica  was  free  and  inde- 
p(-'ndent.      Washington  v.^as  the  s;i\ior  of  his  country. 

Alter  an  atfectiuL;'  farewell  to  the  olticers  of  the  arinv,  Washin^^ton  set  out 
for  his  \'irL;inia  home.  At  e\ery  town  and  \illau;'e  lu;  was  reciMvi'cl  with  love  and 
;;ratitude.  At  Annapolis  he  met  the  Continental  Congress,  when;  he  was  to 
resii^n  his  commission.  It  was  tht;  231!  of  December,  17S3.  .\11  the  memb<;rs 
of  C<ini,'-ress,  anil  a  lar^e  concourse  of  spectators,  were  present.  His  address 
closed  with  the  following-  words  : — 

"  I  laving-  now  fmished  the  work  assigned  me,  I  retire  from  the  t.^reat  theatre 
of  action,  and  Ijiddin^-  an  affectionate  farewell  to  this  aui^ust  body,  imder  whose 
orders  I  have  so  loni^-  actetl,  I  here  offer  my  commission,  and  take  my  leave  of 
all  the  employments  of  public  life." 


53  GEORGE  WASI//XGTOX. 

'I  lie  in'xt  <l;iy  he  rctiirrK.'d  to  Mmiiit  \'crnon,  \vIi(m*<^  ho  c.vpnctfd  to  s|»fn(l 
thti  rcmaiiultM"  ot  his  (hiys  ;is  a  [)ri\at<-'  citizen.  This,  ho\\(n(;r.  could  not  be. 
rhc  wisdom  and  ahihty  of  whicii  he  liad  iL^iven  such  ubuiulani  proof  was  soon 
re([uiri-(l  once  in()r<'  in  his  country's  serxice. 

I  lie  i^reat  proMcin  which  now  en^Tossed  all  minds  was  the  consolidation  of 
tin;  thirteen  States  into  a  nation,  lo  this  subject  Washington,  who  had  suffered 
so  intensely  from  the  inefticie-iicy  of  the  Continental  L'oiiLjrt-'ss,  tlcNoted  his  most 
anxious  attention.  .\  convention  was  called  in  the-  )car  17N7,  Washini^toi' 
was  a  delegate  from  \  ir^^inia,  and  was  unanimously  chosen  to  picside  over  its 
deliberations.  Thf  result  was  the  present  Constitution  of  the  I'nitcd  .States  ; 
which  creat<(l  a  nation  from  the  i)eoi)le  of  all  the  .States,  with  supreme  powers 
for  all  the  j)m"posi;s  of  a  L;'t'iieral  ^ovtn-nment,  ami  leaviiij.;'  with  the  .States  those 
questions  of  local  law  in  which  the  intcL^rity  of  the;  nation  was  not  iinob-ed. 
TIk!  Constitution  of  thi;  I'nited  .States  is,  in  the  judL^^ment  of  the  millions  of  the 
American  i)eo|)le,  the  most  sai.;acious  ilocumeiit  which  has  e\-er  emanated  from 
uninspired  minds.  It  has  created  tht;  stronL;;est  L;'overnm<'nt  upon  this  ^lobo. 
It  has  made  the  I'nitc'd  .Stales  of  .\merica  what  they  iKnv  are.  The  world  must 
look  at  the  fruit,  and  wonder  and  admin;. 

iiKsr  I'Ki:siiii;n  r  oi    riii:  m.w  NArmx. 

I'pon  the  atloption  of  the  Constitution  all  eyes  wert.-  turned  to  Washington 
as  chief  mat^istrate.  ISy  the  unanimous  voice  of  the  lilectors  he  was  chosen  the 
first  President  f)f  the  I'nited  .States.  rh(;re  was  probably  scarcely  a  dissentient 
voice  in  th(;  nation.  New  \'ork  was  then  the  seat  of  L;-overnment.  .\s  Wash- 
ington left  M;)unt  X'ernon  for  the  metropolis  to  assume  these  new  duties  of  toil 
and  care,  we  find  recordetl  in  his  journal  : — 

".\l)out  ten  o'clock  I  bade  adieu  to  Moimt  X'ernon,  to  private  life,  and  to 
domestic  felicity  ;  antl,  with  a  mind  opi)ressed  with  more  anxious  and  painfid 
sensations  than  I  ha\e  words  to  express,  set  out  for  Xew  \'ork,  with  the  Ijest 
disposition  to  rentier  service  to  my  country  in  obetlience  to  its  call,  but  with  less 
hopes  of  answering  its  expectations," 

( )n  his  journey  to  Xew  \'()rk  Washington  was  met  and  escort(.'d  b)  crowds 
of  people,  who  made;  his  progrt^ss  a  march  of  triumph.  At  Trenton  a  beautiful 
arch,  decorated  with  llowcrs,  spanned  the  road,  commemorating  his  victory 
over  the  1  lessians  in  1776.  Mis  |)ath  was  strewn  with  llowers,  and  troops  of 
..hildren  sang  songs  of  welcome. 

\\'ashington  was  inaugurated  President  of  the  United  .States  on  the  30th 
of  .Xjiril.  i7Sq,  1  le  remained  in  the  presidential  chair  two  ternb,  of  four  y  ars 
each.  At  the  close  of  his  administration,  in  thi;  year  1796,  he  again  retired  to 
the  pi;aceful  shades  of  Mount  X'ernon.  Soon  after  his  return  he  wrote  a  letter 
to  a  friend,  in  which  he  described  the  manner  in  which  he  passed  his  time.  He 
rose  with  the  sun,  and  first  made  preparations  for  the  business  of  the  day. 


f 


PliRSOXAL  CJ/ARACTliRlSTlCS.  53 

"  l!y  the  tiiiit'  I  ha\i'  accomplishcil  llicsc  ni.illrrs,"  he  add-^,  "hrcaklast  is 
rc.uK'.  Ihi-^  litiiiL;  <>v<i',  I  mount  my  horse,  and  ride  round  my  farms,  which 
miiloys  mc  until  il  is  time  lo  (hu-ss  tor  dinnrr.  al  wliich  1  r.u'ily  miss  to  sec 
str.uii^f  tacrs,  conn'.  as  thry  say,  out  of  rc-.|)C(.l  to  nic  And  how  dittcrLMil  is 
thi'  trom  having  a  few  fritMuls  at  the  social  Ijoaril  !  I  he  usual  time  of  sittinj^at 
talile,  a  walk,  ami  tea,  iirin^-  me  within  the  ilaun  of  canilleliL;ht ;  prexious  to 
which,  if  not  pri!ventetl  l)y  company,  1  resoKc  that,  as  soon  as  the  i^limmerinj;- 
tajx'r  sup[)lies  the  place  of  the  grtuU  luminary,  1  will  retire  to  my  writin^-tahle. 
.uid  ,icknowlcd,<,M;  the;  hitters  1  have  reccMved.  Having-  i^iven  you  this  history  of 
a  cl,i\-,  it  will  serve  for  a  year." 

The  followiiiL,^  anecdotes  have  heen  relati.-d,  illustratixe  of  I'resitlent  Wash- 
ington's hahits  of  punctuality  Whenever  he  assigned  to  meet  Cons^ress  at 
noon,  h<'  seldom  faihtd  of  passiiit^  the;  tloor  of  th<.'  hall  when  the  clock  struck 
twelve.  I  lis  dininL;  hour  was  at  four  o'clock,  when  he  always  sat  down  to  his 
tabh;,  whether  his  quests  were  assembled  or  not,  mer('ly  allowini,''  five  minutes 
for  tl'ie  variation  of  time-pieces.  To  those  who  came  late,  Ik;  remarked.  "  ( ien- 
tleinrn,  we  are  punctual  h(;re :  my  cook  n(;ver  asks  whether  the  comi)any  has 
arrivctl,  but  wh(;ther  the  hour  has." 

Captain  I'ease  had  a  beautiful  span  of  horses,  which  lie  wished  to  sell  to  the 
I'r(;sident.  The  President  appointetl  five  o'clock  in  the  morning,''  to  examine 
theni  at  his  stable.  The  Captain  arrived  with  his  span  at  <[uarter  past  tiv(;.  lie 
was  told  by  the  i^n'oom  that  the  President  was  there  at  five  o'clock,  butwasthc;n 
L,''one  to  attt;nd  to  other  enL,''a,!L,'^em(;nts.  The;  Pr(;sident's  tinu;  was  wholly  occu- 
])ied  for  sev(;r;d  days,  so  that  Captain  P(;ase  had  to  remain  a  whole  week  in 
Philadelphia  l)efore  he  could  i^et  anoth(;r  opportunity  to  exhibit  his  span. 

Washington,  having'  inherited  a  lari^e  laniled  estate  in  \'ir!_nnia,  was,  as  a 
matter  of  course,  a  slavehoUler.  The  whole  number  which  he  held  at  the  time 
of  his  d(;ath  was  one;  hundred  and  twenty  four.  The  s\'sicm  met  his  stroiii^'- 
disapproval.  In  i  7S6  he  wrote  to  Robert  Morris,  saying',  "There  is  no  man 
livinL,^  who  wishc;s  more  sincerely  than  I  do  to  see  a  \)\m\  adopted  for  the  aboli- 
tion of  sla\er\'." 

Loul;-  belore  this  he  had  recorded  his  resoUe  :  "I  never  mean,  unless  some 
particular  circumstances  should  compel  me  to  it,  to  possess  another  slave  liy 
(Varchase  ;  it  bc-inij^  amonjj;'  my  fu'st  wishes  to  see  some  plan  adopteil  by  which 
slavery  in  this  country  may  be  abolished  by  law." 

Mrs.  Washin_L,^ton,  immediately  after  her  husband's  death,  learning  fron'.  Irs 
will  that  th(;  only  obstacle  to  the  immediate  emancipation  of  th*;  slaves  was  her 
rit(ht  of  dower,  immediately  relinquished  that  rii^ht,  and  the  slaves  were  at  once 
einancipat(;d. 

The  1 2th  of  December.  1799,  was  chill  and  damp.  Wasliin^ton,  liowevcr, 
took  his  usual  round  on  horseback  to  his  farms,  and  returned  late  in  the  after- 


54 


GEORGI-.   J I  -AS/IIXG  TOX. 


noon,  wet  with  sleet,  and  shiverinL;-  nith  cold.  ThoiiL^h  the  snow  was  dinning 
to  his  hair  behind  when  he  came  in,  \\v.  sat  dcjwn  to  dinner  without  chani^inL;'  his 
dress.  The  next  tlay  thrc'e  indues  of  snow  whitened  the  L.;round.  and  the  sky 
was  clouded.  Washington,  fec^lin^;-  that  he  hatl  taken  cold,  remained  [)y  tin-  fire- 
side during'  the  morning.      As   it  cleared   up  in   the  afternoon,  he  went  out  to 


TIIK   TUMI!   (II"   WASIIINC.TON    AT    MOUNT    VERNON. 


superintend  some  work  upon  the  lawn.  1  le  was  tlien  hoarse,  and  the  hoarse- 
ness increased  as  night  came  on.  He,  however,  took  no  remedy  for  it.  saying, 
*'  I  nc  ver  take  anything  to  carry  off  a  cold.     Let  it  go  as  it  came." 

rle  passed  the  evening  as  usual,  reading  the  papers,  answering  letters,  and 
conversing  with  his  family.     About  two  o'clock  the  next  morning,  Saturday,  the 


LAST  HOURS.  55 

14th,  he  awoke  in  an  acfue-chill,  and  was  seriously  unwell.  At  sunrise  his 
physician,  Dr.  Craij^'.  who  resided  at  Alexandria,  was  sent  for.  In  the  niean- 
tinic  he  was  bled  by  one  of  his  overseers,  but  with  no  reli(.:f,  as  he  rapitlly  ;,:rew 
worse.  Or.  Craii.,'- reached  Mount  X'ernon  at  i!lc\i;n  o'clock,  and  ininiediately 
bled  his  [jatient  a_:4ain,  but  without  effect.  'I'wo  consullinu;-  physicians  arrix'cd 
luriiiL,''  the  day  ;  and,  as  th(i  difficult)'  in  breathing-  and  swallowing"  rapidly 
increased,  venesection  was  a^ain  attempted.  It  is  evident  that  Washington 
then  considered  his  case  doubtful.  Me  e.x'aniined  his  will,  and  drstro_\ed  some 
pa[)ers  which  he  tlid  not  wish  to  ha\e  presiM'ved, 

Mis  suffering's  from  intlammatioii  of  the  throat  and  strui_;'L;linL;'  for  breath,  as 
th(;  afternoon  wore  away,  becanu:  (juite  severe.  .Still,  he  retained  his  mental 
faculties  unimpairt'tl,  and  spoke  brietly  of  his  approachiii;^'  death  and  burial 
About  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  he  said  to  Dr.  Craii;',  "  I  die  hard  ;  but  I  am 
not  afraid  to  ^^o.  I  believed,  from  my  first  attack,  that  I  should  not  survive  it  ; 
my  brc^ath  cannot  last  loiiLi'."  .About  si.\  o'clock,  his  physician  ask(;d  him  if  he 
would  sit  up  in  his  l)ed.  He  held  out  his  hands,  aiid  was  raised  uj)  oil  his  pillow, 
whcii  he  said,  "I  fi:el  that  I  an'i  l^oIul;'.  I  tlvuik  you  for  your  atteiitions.  N'ou 
had  better  not  take  any  more  trouble  about  me,  but  h.'t  me  go  off  (piic.'tly.  I 
cannot  last  long'." 

Me  then  sank  back  uj)on  his  pillcjw.  and  made  sex'eral  unavailini^r  attempts 
to  speak  int(;lligibly.  About  ten  o'clock  he  said.  "I  am  just  t^'oin^'.  Mave  nie 
d(;cently  buried,  and  do  not  let  my  body  be  put  iiito  the  vault  until  three  davs 
after  I  am  tU;ad.  I  )o  you  unilerstand  me?"  To  the  reply,  "Yes,  sir,"  he 
remarked,  "It  is  well."  These  were  the  last  words  he  uttereil.  .S0011  after  this 
he  i^ently  e.xpircd,  in  the  sLxty-eii^dith  ye-ar  of  his  aye. 

At  the  moment  of  his  death  Mrs.  Washington  sat  in  silent  yrief  at  the  foot 
of  his  bed.  "Is  he  j^one  ?"  she  asked,  iii  a  fu'm  and  collected  voice;.  The 
physician,  unable  to  s[)eak,  oj'ave  a  sihjiit  si^^nal  of  assent.  ""Ms  wcdl."  she 
added,  in  the  same  untrf.'inulous  utterance.  "  .All  is  now  ovt'r.  I  shall  soon 
follow  him.     I  have  no  more  trials  to  pass  through." 

(3n  the  iSth  his  remains  were;  deposited  in  the  tomb  at  Mount  X'ernon, 
where  they  still  repose  ;  and  his  name  and  memory  live  on  uiimortal,  forever 
enshrined  hi  the  hearts  of  a  grateful  people. 

"  Hiiw  sleep  tlic  lirave  wlio  sink  to  rest 
\l\  all  their  country's  wislies  blest  1 
By  fairy  hands  their  knell  is  run;;  ; 
Bv  lornis  unseen  their  dirue  is  sung; 
There  Honor  comes,  a  pili^rini  i,'ray, 
To  bless  the  turf  that  wraps  their  clay; 
And  l''reedoni  shall  awhile  repair 
To  dwell,  a  weeping  hermit,  there." 


BENJAMIN   FRANKLIN, 

THE    INVENTOR,   PHII^OSOl 'HKK,  ANU    STATES VTAN 


i 


n  ONI"!,"  sa\s  a  well-know  II  wrilcr,  "ever  started   from 

a  Icnver  point  tluin  the  poor  apprer.ticc  of  ISoston  ; 

f       "^^1^*  -'''-'E-  ^Ui*B^-         '^"  '"^*'  (;\  cr  raisetl  hiniselt  higher  by  his  own  iin- 

T       'd^  '  m''^'''Mi^^' '       ^a     aided  forces  than  tht;  inventor  of  the  li^htnino-i-od. 

lletter  than   the   hiooraphies  of   i'hitarch,   this  life, 
so  lon^'   and  so  well  filled,  is  a  source  ot   perpetual 
instruction    to   all    men.      ]'!\x'ry   one   can    there    fuul 
counsel  and  example." 

I'ranklin's    autcjbio^Taphy   is   one   of  th(^    most 

fascinating'  hooks  in  the  lan^ua^c.      It  has  the  charm  of 

st\le   common    to  all   of  his  writings  ;  and   no  one  who   has 

opportunit\'  should  miss  readinL^  this  unrivaled  book.     It  was 

undertaken  at  first   tor  the   edilication   ot   the  members  of  his  own  family,  and 

atterwartl   continued  at  the  pressing-  recpiest  ot   friends  in    London   and   Paris. 

His  autobiouraphy,  however,  covers  only  the  hrst  fifty  years  of  his  life. 

h'or  three  hundred  \'ears  at  least  1  ranklin's  family  lived  in  the  villaL^t;  of 
Ecton.  in  Northamptonshire,  haii^hmd,  the  eldest  son,  who  inherited  the  pro|v 
erty,  bein^;-  always  brought  up  to  the  trade  of  a  smith,  branklin  himself  "was 
the  vouUL^'est  son  of  the  younLi'est  son  for  li\i;  ^eni'rations  back."  branklin's 
lather,  losiah,  took  his  wife  and  three  children  to  New  I'jioland,  in  1682,  where 
h(;  practiced  the  traile  of  a  tallow-chandler  and  soap-boiler,  branklin  was  born 
in  1706,  and  was  the  youiii^-est  of  se\<nteen  children. 

TxTiiamin  liein^-  the  younL;cst  of  ten  sons,  his  father  intend(Ml  him  for  the* 
Church,  antl  sent  him  to  school  when  ei^ht  \-ears  of  a^e.  Although  he  made 
Verv  rapid  progress  in  th(;  school,  his  lather  conchnled  he  could  not  alfouia 
tolleo{;  (iducation.  At  the-  w^i.\  of  ti.-n  youn^,^  Ik-njamin  was  taken  home  to  assist 
in  cuttiui^  th(!  wicks  of  candles,  and  otherwis*;  to  make  himself  useful. 

Until  twelve  years  of  aq^e  HiMijamin  cf)ntinued  in  his  tlither's  business,  but 
as  he  manifested  a  threat  dislik(!  tor  it.  his  parents  set  about  tmdiiiL;'  some  trade 
more  con<jenial  to  his  tastes.  With  this  view  his  father  took  him  to  s(;e  \arious 
artificers  at  their  work,  that  he  mii^dit  observe  the  tastes  of   the  boy.     This 


6o  BENJAMIN  FRANKLIN. 

experience  was  very  valualjle  to  him,  as  it  taught  him  to  do  many  httle  jobs  for 
himself.  DurinL,^  this  timt;  lienjamin  spent  most  of  his  pocket-money  in  purclias- 
insj;  books,  some  of  which  h(^  sold  wlum  he  had  read  them,  in  ortler  to  buy  others. 
He  read  through  most  of  the  books  in  his  fither's  very  limitixl  library. 

At  leni^th  I'Vanklin's  fondness  fc^r  books  caused  his  father  to  decide  to  make 
lim  a  printer.  I  lis  brother  James  had  already  enteretl  that  business,  and  h.ul 
set  up  in  lioston.  He  si<fned  his  indt^ntures  when  onlv  twelve  vears  old, 
apprcnticinL,r  himself  to  his  brother  until  the  aL;e  of  twenty-one. 

MeetinLiC  with  a  book  on  ve^c'tarianism,  branklin  detcrminc'd  to  .^ive  the 
s)slcin  a  trial.  This  led  to  some  inconvenience  in  his  brolh(,'r's  housekeeping', 
so  l'"ranklin  propos(;d  to  board  himself  if  his  brollur  would  L;i\e  him  half  the 
sum  he  paid  for  his  boanl.  Out  of  tiiis  \\v.  was  al)le  to  save  a  consiilerable 
amount  for  the  purjiose  of  buyint^"  books.  Moreo\er,  the  time  recpiirt-'d  for  his 
meals  was  now  so  short  that  the  dinner-hour  afforded  considerable  leisure  for 
reading-. 

In  1720  or  1 72  I  James  Franklin  bei^'an  to  ])rint  the  Xcx^'  Jui<^land  Conrant. 
To  this  pa[)er,  whicii  he  helj)ed  t(j  compose  and  print,  benjamin  became  an 
anon_\inous  contributor.  The  members  of  the  statf  spoke  highly  of  his  contribu- 
tions, Init  when  the  authorship  became  known,  James  conceived  a  jealousy  of  his 
y()un^a;r  brother,  which  letl  to  their  separation.  An  article  in  the  paper  having" 
offended  the  Asseml)l\-,  James  was  im[)risoned  for  a  monlh,  ami  forbidden  to 
print  the  [japer,  fie  then  secretl)'  freed  Benjamin  from  his  imlentures,  in  order 
that  the  paper  might  be  published  in  his  name.  At  length,  a  disag'reement  arising. 
Benjamin  took  advantage  of  the  canceling  of  his  indentures  to  quit  his  brother's 
service.  As  he  could  get  no  employment  in  Boston,  he  obtained  a  passage  to 
New  York,  whence  he  was  recommended  to  go  to  Philadelphia,  which  he  reached 
after  a  very  troublesome  journey.  His  whole  stock  of  cash  then  consisted  of  ^ 
Dutch  dollar  and  about  a  shilling's  worth  of  coppers.  His  first  appearance  in 
Philadelphia,  about  eight  o'clock  on  a  Sunday  morning-,  was  certainly  striking. 
A  youth  between  seventeen  and  eightt.'en  jears  of  age,  dressed  in  his  working 
clothes,  which  were  dirty  through  his  journey,  with  his  pockets  stuffed  out  widi 
stockings  and  shirts,  his  aspect  was  not  calculated  to  command  respect. 

"1  walked  up  the  street,"  he  writes,  "gazing  about,  till  iK'ar  the  market- 
house  I  met  a  boy  with  bread.  I  had  made  many  a  meal  on  bread,  and,  inqrir- 
ing  where  he  got  it,  I  we-nt  immediately  to  the  baker's  he  directed  me  to.  on 
.Second  street,  and  ask'd  for  bisket,  intending  such  as  we  had  in  Boston  ;  but 
they,  it  seems,  were  not  made  in  Philadelphia.  Then  I  asked  for  a  threepenny 
loat,  and  was  told  they  had  nont;  such.  .So,  not  considering  or  knowing  the  dif- 
ference of  moiu;y,  and  the  greatt^r  cheapness,  nor  the  name  of  his  bread,  I  bade 
him  give  me  three-penny-worth  of  any  sort.  He  gave  me,  accordingly,  three 
great  puffy  rolls.     I  was  surpriz'd  at  the  ipiantity,  but  took  it,  and  having  no 


FRANKLIX  JX  PHILADELPHIA.  Gi 

ronni  in  my  pocke!ts,  walk'cl  off  with  a  roll  under  each  arm,  and  catuiL:;-  the 
other.  1  hus  I  \v(Mit  u[)  Market  stre(-t  as  tar  as  I-"ourth  street,  [xissinL;'  by  the 
door  of  Mr.  R(;ad,  my  future  wife's  father;  when  she,  stani.liiiL;'  at  the  door,  saw 
iiij,  and  thouL;ht  1  made,  as  I  certainly  did,  a  most  awkward,  ridiculous  appear- 
ance. Then  I  turned  and  went  down  Chestnut  street  and  part  of  Walnut  street, 
eating'  my  roll  all  th(;  way,  and,  comini(  round,  found  myself  a^ain  at  Mark(;t 
itreet  wharf  near  tlu;  boat  I  came  in,  to  which  I  weiit  for  a  drau-ht  of  the  river 
water  ;  and,  hein^-  filled  out  with  one  of  my  rolls,  L;ave  the  other  two  to  a  woman 
and  her  child  that  came  down  the  river  in  the  bt)at  with  us,  and  were  waitini^  to 
MO  further." 

IRANKl.IX    IX    rHII..\I>i:i,l'Il!A. 

In  Philadelphia  branklin  obtaini-il  an  introduction  to  a  printer,  named  Kei- 
nier,  who  had  set  uf)  business  with  an  old  press  which  hi-  a[)peared  not  to  know 
how  to  use,  antl  one  pair  of  cases  of  linnlish  type.  1  lere  branklin  obtained  em- 
plovmentwhen  the  business  on  hanil  would  permit,  and  he  j)u'.  the  press  in  order 
ami  worked  it.  Keimer  obtained  lodLjiuL^'  for  him  at  the  h')us('  of  Mr.  Read, 
and.  In'  industry  and  t;conomical  li\inL;',  branklin  so(jn  found  himself  in  easy 
circumstances.  .Sir  William  Keith,  the  Governor  of  PennsyUania,  hearing-  of 
I'ranklin,  calh^d  u[)on  him,  and  promised  to  obtain  for  him  the  (iovernment  ])rint- 
iiiL^-  if  he  would  set  u])  f(M*  himself.  Josiah  branklin  thouj^ht  his  son  too  }'oun<^ 
to  take  the  responsibilitv  of  a  business,  whereon  the'  (iovc'rnor,  statiiiL;'  that  he 
was  determined  to  ha\e  a  yood  [jrintcn'  there,  promised  to  fmd  the  means  of  equip- 
ping' the  printing-office  himself  and  suggested  I'ranklin's  making  a  iourney  to 
I'jigland  to  purchase  the  plant.  He  promisetl  l(,'tters  of  introduction  to  various 
persons  in  bjigland,  as  well  as  a  letter  of  credit.  These  were  to  be  sent  on 
board  the  ship,  and  I'ranklin,  having  gone  on  board,  await(.'d  the  letters.  When 
the  Ciovernor's  despatches  came,  they  were  all  })ut  iiito  a  bag  tog(.'ther,  and  the 
captain  promised  to  let  Franklin  ha\e  his  letters  befcjre  landiiig.  ( )n  opening 
the  bag  off  Plymouth,  there  were  no  letters  of  the  kind  promised,  and  I-'ranklin 
was  left,  without  introductions  and  almost  without  monf-y,  to  make  his  own  way 
in  the  world.  In  London  he  learned  that  Governor  Keith  was  well  known  as  a 
man  in  whom  no  dei:)endence  could  be  placed,  and  as  to  his  giving  a  letter  of 
credit,  "  he  had  no  credit  to  give." 

A  friend  of  I'Vanklin's,  iiamed  Ralph,  accompanied  him  from  .\merica,  and 
the  two  took  locl'inij's  together.  Franklin  immediatelv  oljtained  en'ii)lovment  at 
a  printing-office,  but  Ral[)h,  who  knew  no  trade  but  aimed  at  literature,  was  unable 
to  get  anv  work.  He  could  not  obtain  employment,  even  as  a  copying  clerk,  so 
for  some  time  the  wages  which  Pranklin  earned  had  to  support  the  two. 

Among  FVanklin's  fellow-passengers  from  Philadelphia  to  I'lngland  was  an 
American  merchant,  a  Mr.  Denham.  This  gentleman  always  remained  a  firm 
friend  to  Franklin,  who,  during  his  stay  in  London,  sought  his  advice  when  any 


62 


BILXJAM/X  FRA.XKLLW 


important  questions  arose.  When  Mr.  Dunham  returned  to  I'hiLuUlphia,  he 
offered  I'ranklin  an  appointment  as  clerk,  which  was  aftc:r\vard  to  devi:lop  into 
a  commission  agency.  The  offer  was  accepted,  and  the  two  returned  to  Phila- 
delphia in  ()ctolj<;r,  1726.  Here  he  found  that  Miss  Rea<l,  to  whom  he  had 
become  engaged  l)efore  leavini^  for  Hnyland,  and  to  whom  he  had  written  only 
once  durint,''  his  absence,  had  married.  Shortly  after  startini^-  in  business,  Mr. 
Denham  died,  and  thus  left  I'Vanklin  to  commence  life  ai^ain  for  himself.  Kei- 
mer  had  by  this  time  obtained  a  fairly  e.\tensive  establishment,  and  employed  a 


IKNNS    Ur.^IIil.NCK    IN    Sl.c'nNn    STRKI-T,    ini.nW    CHI^TM   T    STRKKT. 


number  of  hands,  l)ut  none  of  them  of  much  value  ;  and  he  made  overtures  tn 
I-'ranklin  to  take  the  man;ii.;em(;nt  of  his  printini,»--ofrice.  l'"ranklin  set  the  i)rint 
mg  house  in  order,  started  type-foundiny,  matle  the  ink,  and,  when  necessary, 
executed  enL^^ravin^-s. 

While  working'  for  Keimer,  Franklin  formed  a  club,  called  the  Junto,  which 
iR^as  destined  to  exert  considerable  inlluence  on  American  politics.  It  was  essen- 
tially a  debatint:;'  society,  the  subject  for  each  evenin_f^'s  discussion  bein<^  proposed 
at  the  precedinij  meeting.     The  Club  lasted  for  about  forty  years,  and  became 


"POOR  RICHARD- S  AULIXACR.'  6^ 

the  nucleus  of  the  American  Philosophical  Society,  of  which  [■"ranklin  was  the 
first  president. 

On  leaving;'  Keiiner's,  Franklin  went  into  jiartnership  with  one  of  his  fellow- 

workmen,  llui_;h  Mert-ililh,  whose  falhrr  found  the  necessary  ca|)ital,  and  a  |)rint- 

in.,^-ofhce  was  startetl  which  soon  excelled  its  two  rivals  in  I'hiladelphia.      I'rank- 

lir/s  industry  attractt;d  the  attention  of  the  townsfolk,  and  inspired  the  m(;rchants 

\!lh  confidence  in  the  prospects  of  the  new  concern. 

"  In  order  to  secure  my  credit  and  character  as  a  tradesman,  I  look  care;  not 
only  t(j  be  in  reality  industrious  and  fruL;a!,  hut  to  avoid  al!  ap|)caraiu-(;s  to  the 
C(;ntrar\'.  I  tlrest  plainly;  1  was  seen  at  no  places  of  idh.' diversion,  I  n('\er 
went  out  a-fishin^-  or  shootinv^" ;  a  hook,  indc^eil,  sometimes  debauch'd  me  from 
my  work,  but  that  was  seldom,  snuo-,  antl  L;a\t;  wo  scantlal  ;  and,  to  show  that  I 
was  not  above  my  business,  I  sometimes  brought  home  the  pa[)er  I  purchas'd  at 
the  stores  thro'  the  streets  on  a  whcndbarrow.  Thus  beim;'  esteem'd  an  indus- 
trious, thriviniL;-  youiiL;'  man,  awA.  payin^^  duly  for  what  I  bou^dit,  the  merchants 
who  imported  stationery  solicitc'd  my  custom  :  others  pro[)osed  siippKin^-  me  with 
books,  and  I  went  on  swimminiL^ly.  In  the  meantime,  Keimer's  credit  declin- 
iu'^-  daily,  he  was  at  last  forc'd  to  s(;ll  his  printiniL^r-house.'  to  satisfy  his  creditors." 

On  .Septeml)er  i,  \~},o,  I'ranklin  married  his  former  I'udici'w  whosi;  previous 
husband  had  hft  her  and  was  reported  to  ha\(;  died  in  the  West  Indies.  The 
marrias^e  was  a  very  happy  oiu;.  Industry  and  frugality  rei!_;ned  in  the  house- 
holil  of  the  youii'^'  printer.  Mrs.  branklin  not  only  manaL^cd  the  house,  but 
assisted  in  the  business,  folding-  ami  stitching-  ])amphlets,  and  in  other  way.s 
makiuij  herself  uselul. 

I'UIU.ie   SF.KVIi'K   AND    RESI'f  ixsiiiii.rrv. 

In  I  7;;  J  appeared  \\\v.  first  copy  of  "  Poor  Richaixl's  Almanack."  This  was 
pul)lished  l)y  branklin  for  about  twenty  h\e  y(.'ars  in  succession,  and  attained  a 
world-wide  fame.  Ilesides  the  usual  astronomical  information,  it  contained  a 
collection  of  entertainimj;' anecelotes,  verses,  jests,  etc.,  while;  th(;  "little  spaces 
that  occurred  betweiMi  the  remarkable  e\ents  in  the  calendar"  were;  filled  with 
prov(M'bial  sax'ini^s,  inculcating-  industr\'  ami  trui^ality  as  helps  to  \irtue.  These 
sayings  were  collected  and  prefixed  to  the  almanack  of  1757,  whence  they  were 
copied  into  the  American  news|)apers,  and  aft(;rward  reprinted  as  a  Ijroad-sheet 
!n  England  and  in  l-'rance;. 

In  1736  I'ranklin  was  chosen  Clerk  to  the  (leiieral  .\ssembly,  an  office  to 
which  he  was  annually  re-elected  until  Ik;  l)e;cam(;  a  member  of  the  Assembly 
about  1750,  There  was  one  member  who,  on  the  second  occasion  of  his 
ifclection,  made  a  lom;-  s[)eech  against  him.  Franklin  determined  to  secure  the 
friendship  of  this  member.  Accordingly,  he  wrote  to  him  to  re(]uest  the  loan 
of  a  very  scarce  and  curious  book  which  was  in  his  library.      The  book  was  lent 


64  BE.yjAMIX  I'RAXKUN. 

and  r(jtui-necl  in  ahimt  a  wt-ck,  with  a  nott;  of  thanks.  The  member  ever  after 
manifested  a  readiness  to  servi;  I'ranklin,  and  they  became  Ljreat  friends — 
■■'Another  instance;  of  the-  truth  of  an  olil  maxim  I  had  learned,  whicli  says,  '/A' 
t/iaf  /I'.is  oiiit-  lioiic  yoH  a  kiiuiiicss  icill  be  ))iorc  ready  to  ilo  yon  another  than  he 
ivJioiJi  \ou  yonrM'lf  have  oh!:^i:^ed!  And  it  shows  how  much  more  profitable  it  is 
to  prudently  remove.',  than  to  resent,  naurn,  and  contiinu;  inimical  proceedim^^s." 

Spain,  ha\  inL;  lieen  for  somi;  years  at  war  with  lJiL;land,  was  joineil  at  lenj^th 
by  I'Vance.  This  threateneel  damper  to  the  AnK.-rican  colonies,  b'ranklin  pub- 
lished a  pamphlet  eniitl-.d  "  Plain  Tnilh,"  setting,''  forth  th»j  unarmi:d  condition 
of  the  colonies,  and  recommcndiiii.;-  the  formation  of  a  volunteer  iorce  for 
defcMisive  pur[)oses.  '\\\^  pam|)hlt:t  e.\cited  much  attention.  The  provision  of 
war  mat(.Tial  was  a  difticulty  with  the  Assembly,  which  consisted  Iarc;ely  of 
Quakers,  who,  thouL^h  privately  williiiL,^  that  the  country  shouUl  be  put  in  a  state 
of  deff-nse,  hesitat<d  to  xote  in  opposition  to  their  peace  principles,  i  lence, 
when  the  (iovirrnmcnt  of  Xew  baii^iainl  aske-d  a  L^rant  of  i^unpowder  from  I'enn- 
syKania,  the  Assembly  voted  /'^ooo  "for  the-  purchasin;,,^  of  bread,  tlour,  wheat, 
or  other  o-raiiiy  When  it  was  proposed  to  devote  /,6o  toward  the  erection  of 
a  battery  below  the  town,  I'ranklin  su^^f^ested  that  it  should  be  [proposed  that  a 
firo-enL,nne  be  purchased  with  the  money,  and  that  the  committee  should  "buy 
a  threat  .L;un,  which  is  certainly  a  fire-ei/i;iiie." 

The  "  I'(.-nnsylvania  llreplace  "  was  invented  in  1742.  A  patent  was  oli'ered 
to  [""ranklin  liy  the  Ciovernor  of  Pennsylvania,  but  he  declined  it  on  the  princi[)le 
"that,  as  Tc'r  e/z/'ov  x'reat  advaiitaj^es  from  the  inventions  of  others,  10c  shonld  be 
j^bad  of  an  opportunity  to  serve  others  by  any  invention  of  ours ;  and  this  loe 
shon/d  do  free/v  and  i^enerons/y.'" 

1  laviiiL,'-  practically  retired  from  business,  I'ranklin  intended  to  devote  him- 
self to  philosophical  studies,  having-  commenced  his  electrical  researches  some 
time  before  in  conjunction  with  the  other  members  of  the  Library  Company. 
Public  business,  however,  crowded  upon  him.  He  was  elected  a  member  of  the 
Assembly,  a  cf)uncill')r,  and  afterward  an  alderman  of  the  city,  and  by  the 
(jovernor  was  made  a  justice  of  the  [)eace.  As  a  nvmber  of  the  Assembly,  he 
was  lar^^ely  concerned  in  proNid'iiL^-  the  means  for  the  erection  of  a  hospital,  and 
•n  arrauL^ini;'  for  tin.'  [Kivin;^''  and  cleansiiiL;- of  the  stree^ts  of  the  city.  In  1753  he 
.vas  appointed,  in  conjunction  widi  Mr.  llunt(jr,  Postmaster-General  of  America. 
The  post-office-  of'the  colonies  had  previously  been  ccjnducted  at  a  loss.  In  a  few 
years,  under  I'ranklin's  manai^^emcnt,  it  not  only  paid  the  stipends  of  himself 
antl  Mr.  1  lunter,  but  yielded  a  considerable  revenue  to  the  Crown. 

In  1754  war  with  France  appeared  to  be  again  imminent,  and  a  Coni^ress 
of  Commissioners  from  the  several  colonies  was  arran^-ed  for.  Of  course, 
P'ranklin  was  one  of  the  representatives  of  Pennsylvania,  and  was  also  one  of 
the  members  who  independently  drew  up  a  plan  for  the  union  of  all  the  colonies 


JOUKXhV  JO  EXCLAXJ).  65 

iiiuIlt  f)nL'  .LTovcrniiicnt,  for  dctciisivc  and  other  L^cncral  pur[)oscs,  ami  his  was 
the  plan  finally  approved  by  Coni^ress  lur  the  union,  tiioii,L;h  it  was  not  accepted 
by  tlie  Assemblies  or  b)'  the  [{n^lish  ( ioverninent,  beinij^  rej^drdetl  by  the  lornier 
as  havinj^  too  much  of  i\\(t  pr,TOi^ati:'c  in  it,  by  the  latt(;ras  Ijciul;'  too  diinocralic. 
l-'ranklin  wrote  respL-ctin^,^  tiiis  scheme:  "The  different  and  coiurar)'  reasons  of 
dislike  to  my  [)!an  n;akes  me  suspect  that  it  was  really  the  true  mctdium  ;  and  I 
uini  still  ot  o[)inion  that  it  would  have  been  happy  for  both  sides  the  water  if  it 
had  been  adopted.  'IIk;  colonies,  so  unilcil,  would  ha\e  been  sulfuiently  strt)nt^ 
to  have  tletendfd  thruiselves  ;  tlKM'i;  would  then  have  b(;cn  no  nccil  of  troops 
from  I'Jii^lanel  ;  ot  course,  the  subsequent  [)ret(;nse  for  taxinij  America,  and  the 
blootly  contest  it  occasioned,  would  ha\e  been  avoided." 

in  the  tollowinj.^  year  (icneral  ISraddock  started  on  his  famous  expedition 
a'^ainst  I'ort  l)u(piesne.  bVanklin's  services  were  called  for  in  providin^^f 
horses  and  wagons  from  the  I'ennsyKania  farmers  ;  and  in  the  disastrous  defeat 
which  Hradtlock  suffcM-etl,  and  in  the  Ioiil;'  years  of  the  iM-eiuh  and  Indian  war 
which  followed,  branklin  took  a  [jrominent  |)art  in  devisint,''  means  of  protection 
for  the  Colonies.  W'hiMi  at  last  the  war  was  ended  by  the  victory  antl  death 
of  Wolfe  on  the  hei<;hts  of  Ouebec,  branklin's  attf'Ution  was  turned  to  the 
relations  of  the  Colonies  to  the  mother  country,  which  were  becoming  daily 
more  strained  by  the  oppressions  of  the  ih'itish  Parlianu;nt. 

rKANKi  IN  si:\r  'lo  kmw.and. 

In  1757  I'ranklin  was  sent  by  the  .\ssembly  of  Pennsylvania  to  London, 
to  present  a  remonstrance  against  the  conduct  of  the  (iovernor,  who  refused  to 
assent  to  bills  for  raisin^-  rtncnue  for  the  kin;,';  unless  the  proprielcU"y  estates 
were  exempted  from  taxation.  When  b'ranklin  reached  London  he  took  up  his 
abotle  with  Mrs.  MarLjaret  .Stevenson.  I'or  Mrs.  .Stevenson  ami  her  tlaui^hter 
Mary,  then  a  youn^^-  lady  of  ei<^dit(i(;n,  he  acquired  a  sincere  affection,  which  con- 
tinuetl  throuii'hout  their  li\es.  Miss  Stevenson  s[)ent  much  of  \\v.\-  time  with  an 
aunt  in  the  country,  and  some  of  bVanklin's  letters  to  h(;r  respecting;'  the  con- 
duct of  her  "higher  education  "  are  among  th''  most  ini(;resting  of  his  writings. 
In  coming  to  b]ngland,  Franklin  liroughtwith  him  his  son  William,  who  e-iUeTed 
on  the  study  of  law.  To  his  wife  and  daughter  I'ranklin  frecjuently  sent  i)res- 
ents,  and  his  letters  to  Mrs.  Franklin  give  a  pretty  full  account  of  all  his  doings 
while  in  Fmgland.  During  his  visit  he  received  the  honorary  degrees  of  D.C.L. 
from  the  University  of  Oxford,  and  LL.l).  from  that  of  Edinburgh.  In  August, 
1762,  he  started  again  for  America,  and  reached  Philadelphia  on  November 
I,  after  an  absence  of  five  years.  His  son  William  hatl  shortly  Ijefore  been 
ajjpointed  Governor  of  New  jersey.  FVom  this  time  William  FVanklin  became 
verv  much  the  servant  of  the  proprietaries  ami  of  the  luisjlish  government,  but 
no  offer  of  patronage  produced  any  effect  on  the  father. 


1^, 


^liJL.^A, ,  -k';jjS 


I'VLLY  OF  THE  STAMP  ACT.  67 

Franklin's  stay  in  America  was  of  short  duration.  While  there  h<'  was 
mainly  instrumental  in  (im-llin;;-  an  insurrection  in  l'i;nnsylvania,  and  was  (M'.- 
j^rai^aid  in  lon^;'  and  tedious  efforts  to  com[)ose  the  incessant  disputes  hetwt^en 
the  Assembly  and  tin;  proprietary  jj^overnors.  As  soon  as  th<;  Assembly  was 
convened,  it  iU^t<;rmined  to  send  l-ranklin  to  Mni^land.  to  take  charj^^e  ot  a  peti- 
tion for  a  chan«,fu  of  .ijovernment.  Tin;  merchants  subscribed  ^'iioo  toward 
his  expenses  in  a  few  hours,  and  in  twelve  days  he  was  on  his  journey,  beinii; 
accompanied  to  the  ship  by  a  cavalcade!  of  three  hundred  of  his  friends,  .\rrived 
in  London,  he  at  once  tcjok  up  his  old  loelu,Mn!L;s  with  Mrs.  .Stevenson.  1  le  was  a 
master  of  satire,  ecpialeii  only  by  Swift,  and  durini,^  the  cjuarrels  which  preceded 
the  War  of  Independence,  as  well  as  during  the  war,  he  made  good  use  of  his 
powers. 

One  of  Franklin's  chief  ol)jects  in  coming  to  Fjigland  was  to  prevtMit  th<! 
passintr  of  thi^  .Stamp  Act.  I'he  colonists  ur*'(Hl  that  th('V  luul  alwavs  been 
liberal  in  their  votes,  whenever  money  was  recpiired  by  the  Crown,  and  that 
Parliament  had  no  right  to  ta.x  America  so  long  as  the  colonists  were  imrepre- 
sent(.'d  in  Parliament.  "  Mad  Mr.  Grenville,  instead  of  that  act,  ap|)lied  to  the 
King  in  Council  for  requisitional  letters,  I  am  sure  he  would  have  obtained  more 
money  from  the  colonies  by  their  voluntary  grants  than  he  himself  (;x|)ected 
from  the  sale  of  stamps.  Hut  he  chose  compulsicjn  rather  than  piM'suasion,  and 
would  not  receive  from  their  good-will  what  he  thought  he  could  obtain  v.ithout 
it."  The  .Stamp  Act  was  passed,  stamps  were  printed,  distributors  were  ap- 
pointed, but  the  colonists  would  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  stamps.  The 
distributors  were  compelled  to  resign  their  commissions,  anil  the  captains  of 
vessels  were  forbidden  to  land  the  stamped  i^aper.  The  cost  of  printing  and 
distributing  amounted  to  ^12,000;  the  whole  return  was  about  ^1500,  and 
that  mainly  from  Canada  and  the  West  Indies. 

In  1767  P'ranklin  visited  Paris.  Though  Parliament  had  repealed  the  Stamp 
.\ct,  it  nevertheless  insisted  on  its  right  to  tax  the  colonies.  The  Duty  Act  was 
scarcely  less  obiectionable  than  its  predecessors.  On  PVanklin's  return  from 
the  continent,  he  heard  of  the  retaliatory  measures  of  the  Boston  people,  who 
had  assembled  in  town-mt-'etings,  formally  resolved  to  encourage  home  manu- 
factures, to  abandon  superfluities,  and,  after  a  certain  time,  to  give  up  the  use  of 
-oine  articles  of  foreign  manufacture. 

A  quantity  of  tea  sent  by  the  East  India  Company  to  Boston  was  destroyed 
by  the  people.  The  British  Government  then  blockaded  the  port.  This  soon  h-d 
to  open  hostilities.  P'ranklin  worked  hard  to  effect  a  reconciliation.  He  drew^ 
lip  a  scheme,  setting  forth  the  conditions  under  which  he  conceived  a  reconcilia- 
tion might  be  brought  about,  and  discussed  it  fully  with  Mr.  Daniel  Barclay  and 
Dr.  I*"othergill.  This  scheme  was  shown  to  Lord  Howe,  and  afterward  brought 
before  the  Ministry,  but  was  rejected.  All  his  negotiations  were  fruitless.  At 
5 


68  IUL\JAML\  FRANKLLW 

last  he  addressed  a  memorial  to  the  liarl  of  Dartmouth,  Secretary  of  State, 
coiniihiiniiii,^  of  the  ])l()ckadc  of  Boston,  which  had  then  continued  for  nine 
months,  and  had  "  durin^^  (.-very  week  of  its  continuance  done  damaf^e  to  that 
town  efiual  to  what  was  suffiTcnl  there  hv  the  IncHa  Company  ;"  and  claiminsjr 
ri'paration  for  such  injury  beyond  the  value  of  th(;  tea  which  had  been  d(;stroyed. 
'I'his  memorial  was  returncnl  to  I'Vanklin  by  Mr.  Walpole,  and  I'Vanklii-  shortly 
itierward  returned  to  Philadelphia. 

TIIK    KF.Voir  I'll  iNARV    WAR. 

l?efore  Franklin  reached  .\merica,  the  War  of  Independence,  thouL,di  not 
formally  declarcMl,  had  fairly  bes^un.  1  le  was  ap[)ointed  a  iiiember  of  the  second 
Continental  Congress,  and  one  of  a  committee  to  confer  with  General  W'ashinij;-- 
t<-)n  rcs]jectinL;'  th<'  Continental  Army.  On  October  3,  1775,  he  wrote  to 
Priestley  : — 

"Tell  our  dear  j^ootl  frieiul,  Dr.  Price,  who  sometimes  has  his  doubts  and 
despondencies  about  our  tirmness,  that  .\m(;rica  is  tK^tt.'rmined  and  unanimous  ; 
a  \-ery  few  Toric's  and  placemen  excepted,  who  will  probal)ly  soon  export 
themselves.  iSritain,  at  the  expeust!  of  thrt;e  millions,  has  killetl  a  hunilr(,'(l  and 
fifty  N'ankees  this  cam])aiiL;n,  which  is  /,"20,ooo  a  head  ;  and  at  Hunker's  Hill  sIk? 
L;ained  a  mile  of  ground,  half  of  which  she  lost  aLi;ain  by  our  takintj;'  the  post  on 
Ploui^hed  llill.  Durinij^  the  same;  time  sixty  thousand  children  have?  been  born 
in  .\merica.  b'rom  these  (/a/a  his  mathematical  head  will  easily  calculate  tlu; 
time  and  expenses  necessary  to  kill  us  all  and  ciMUjuerour  whole  territory." 

<  )n  the  4lh  of  b'ly  I'ranklin  took  part  in  the  sisj^-niiiL;'  ot  the  Declaration  of 
Independence.  When  the  document  was  about  to  Ik;  signed,  Mr.  Hancock 
remarki'd,  "We  must  be'  unanimous  :  there  must  be-  no  jiulliniL:;'  differcmt  \yays  ; 
we  must  all  han^-  tot,r('ther."  Pranklin  replied,  "  V(;s,  we  must  indeed  all  hany^ 
together,  or  most  assureclb'  we  shall  all  haiii^"  separat(-'ly." 

In  the  autumn  of  1770  I'r.iiikliu  was  unanimously  chosen  a  .Special  Com- 
missioner to  the  P"r(Mich  Court.  1  le  took  with  him  his  two  grandsons,  William 
Temple  branklin  and  Henjamin  P'ranklin  Hache,  and  leaving-  Marcus  Hook  on 
'October  3.Sth.  crossed  the  Atlantic  in  a  sloop  of  sixteen  i^uns.  In.  Paris  he  met 
with  an  enthusiastic  reception.  M.  de  Chaumont  placetl  at  his  disposal  his  house 
at  Passy,  about  a  mile  from  Paris.  Here  In;  resitled  for  nine  yi;ars,  oeiusjj'a  con- 
st.int  visitor  at  the  breiich  Court,  and  certainly  one  of  tin;  most  conspicuous 
figures  in  Paris.  I  le  was  oblii^red  to  serve  in  many  capacities,  and  was  very  much 
burdened  with  wf)rk.  Not  only  were  there  his  duties  as  Commissioner  at  the 
I'rench  Court,  but  he  was  also  made  Admiralty  Jud^e  and  I'inancial  Aj^-ent, 
so  that  all  imancial  negotiations,  either  with  the  Prench  (lovernment  or  con- 
tractors, had  to  ])ass  throui^h  his  hands.  Perhaps  the  most  unpleasant  part 
of  his  work  was   his  continued  applications  to  the  Prench  Court  for  monetary 


AID  FROM  FRANCE. 


69 


advances.  The  I'rench  Government  warmly  espoused  the  cau^e  of  the  Ameri- 
cans, and  to  the  utmost  of  its  ability  assisted  them  with  mone)-,  material,  and 
men. 


'^iv->' 


Kl   \R    \1»\V    (>!■    INIH  I'l-.NIir.NrK    MAI.l.,    I'M  1 1, A  I  HI  !■  II  I  \. 


At  first  the  British  (lovernment,  rei^-ardintr  the  Americans  as  rdiels.  did  not 
treat  their  prisoners  as  prison(,'rs  of  war,  but  threattMied  to  try  them  fcjr  hiL,di 
treason.  Their  suffi-rino^s  in  the  I'Jit^iish  prisons  were  very  oreat.  Mr.  Daviil 
Hartley  did  much  to  relie\e  them,  and  I'ranklin  transmitted  nK.mey  ior  the  pur- 


70  BENJAMIN  FRANKLIN. 

pose.  When  a  treatv  had  been  formed  between  France  and  the  United  States, 
and  fortune  began  to  turn  in  favor  of  the  united  armies,  the  American  prisoners 
received  better  treatment  from  the  EngUsh  Government,  and  exchanges  took 
place  freely. 

In  a  letter  to  Mr.  Hartley,  Franklin  showed  something  of  the  feelings  of 
the  Americans  with  respect  to  the  English  ^'i  that  time: — 

"  You  may  ha\  e  heard  that  accounts  upon  oath  have  been  taken  in  America, 
by  order  of  Congress,  of  the  British  barbarities  committed  there.  It  is  expected 
of  me  to  make  a  school-book  of  them,  and  to  have  thirty-five  prints  designed 
here  by  good  artists,  and  engraved,  each  expressing  one  or  more  of  the  horrid 
facts,  in  order  to  impress  the  minds  of  children  and  posterity  with  a  deep  sense 
of  your  bloody  and  insatiable  malice  and  wickedness.  Every  kindness  I  hear 
of  done  by  an  Englishman  to  an  American  prisoner  makes  me  resolve  not  to 
proceed  in  the  work." 

Franklin  always  advocated  freedom  of  commerce,  even  in  time  of  war.  He 
was  of  opinion  that  the  merchant,  the  agriculturist,  and  the  fisherman  were  bene- 
factors to  mankind.  He  condemned  privateering  in  every  form,  and  endeav- 
ored to  bring  about  an  agreement  between  all  the  civilized  powers  against  the 
fitting  out  of  privateers.  He  held  that  no  merchantman  should  be  interfered  with 
unless  carrying  war  material.  He  greatly  lamentetl  the  horrors  of  the  war,  but 
preferred  anything  to  a  dishonorable  peace.     To  Priestley  he  wrote  : — 

"  Perhaps  as  you  grow  older  you  may  .  .  .  repent  of  having  murdered  in 
mephitic  air  so  many  honest,  harmless  mice,  and  wish  that,  to  prevent  mischief, 
you  had  used  boys  and  girls  instead  of  them.  In  what  light  we  are  viewed  by 
superior  beings  may  be  gathered  from  a  piece  of  late  West  India  news,  which 
possibly  has  not  yet  reached  you.  A  young  angel  of  distinction,  being  sent  down 
to  this  world  on  some  business  for  the  first  time,  had  an  oKl  courier-spirit  assigned 
him  as  a  guid(!.  They  arrived  over  the  seas  of  Martinico,  in  the  middle  of  the 
long  day  of  obstinate  fight  lietween  the  fieets  of  Rodney  and  1  )e  Grasse.  When, 
through  the  clouds  of  smoke,  he  saw  the  fire  of  the  guns,  the  decks  covered  with 
mangled  limbs  and  bodies  dead  or  dying  ;  the  ships  sinking,  burning,  or  blown 
into  the  air  ;  and  the  quantity  of  pain,  misery,  and  destruction  the  crews  yet 
alive  were  thus  with  so  much  eagerness  dealing  round  to  one  another, — he 
turned  angrily  to  his  guide,  and  said,  'You  blundering  blockhead,  you  are  igno- 
rant of  your  business  ;  you  undertook  to  conduct  me  to  the  earth,  and  you  have 
brought  WW.  into  hell  !'  '  Xo,  sir,'  says  the  guide,  '  I  have  made  no  mistake  ;  this  is 
really  the  earth,  and  these  are  men.  Devils  never  treat  one  another  in  this  cruel 
manner  ;  th(;y  have  more  sense  and  more  of  what  men  (vainly)  call  humanity.'  " 

P^ranklin  maintained  that  it  would  be  far  cheaper  for  u  nation  to  extend  its 
possessions  by  purchase  from  other  nations  than  to  pay  the  cost  of  war  for  the 
sake  of  conquest. 


VIE  1 1  '5  OJV  RELIGION.  ;  \ 

At  last,  after  two  years'  nei^otiations,  a  definitive  treaty  of  peace  was 
sis^ned  between  Great  Britain  and  tlie  United  States,  Franklin  beinL;-  one  of  the 
Commissioners  for  the  latter,  and  Mr.  1  lardey  for  the  lormer,  and  therewith 
terminated  the  seven  years'  War  of  Independence.  Franklin  -celebrated  the 
surrender  of  the  armies  of  Pnirgoyne  and  Cornwallis  by  a  medal,  on  which  the 
infant  Hercules  appears  strangling-  two  serpents. 

RF.TL'RN"    TO    AMERICA. 

On  May  2,  17S5,  Franklin  received  from  Congress  permission  to  return  to 
America.  He  was  thcMi  in  his  eightieth  year.  On  July  12th  he  left  Fassy  for 
Havre,  whence  he  cnjssed  to  Southampton,  and  there  saw  for  the  last  time  his 
oltl  friend,  the  Bishop  of  St.  Asaph,  antl  his  family.  He  reached  his  home  in 
I'liilatlelphia  early  in  September,  and  the  day  after  his  arrival  he  received  a 
coiV'Tatulatorv  address  from  the  Assemblv  of  Pennsvlvania.  In  the  following 
month  he  was  elected  President  of  the  State,  and  was  twice  re-elected  to  the 
same  office,  it  being  contrary  to  the  Constitution  for  any  President  to  be  elected 
for  more  than  three  years  in  succession. 

The  following  extract  from  a  letter,  written  most  probably  to  Thomas  Paine, 
is  worthy  of  the  attention  of  some  writers  : — 

"  I  have  read  your  manuscri|)t  with  some  attention.  By  the  argument  it 
contains  against  a  particular  Providence,  though  you  allow  a  general  Providence, 
you  strike  at  the  foimdations  of  all  religion.  Por  without  the  belief  of  a  Provi- 
dence that  takes  cognizance  of  guards  and  guides,  and  may  fa\'or  particular 
persons,  there  is  no  motive  to  worship  a  Deity,  to  fear  His  dis[)leasure,  or  to 
])ray  for  His  protection.  I  will  not  enter  into  any  discussion  of  your  principles, 
though  you  seem  to  desire  it.  Ikit  were  you  to  succeed,  do  you  imagine  any 
good  would  be  done  by  it?  \'>w  yourself  may  find  it  easy  to  li\e  a  \irtuous 
life  without  the  assistance  aftorded  by  religion  ;  you  having  a  clear  perception 
of  the;  advantages  of  virtue  and  the  disadvantages  of  vice,  and  j)ossessing 
strength  of  resolution  sufficient  to  enable  you  to  resist  common  temptations. 
But  think  how  great  a  portion  of  mankind  consists  of  weak  and  ignorant  men 
and  women,  and  of  inexperienced,  inconsiderate  youth  of  both  sexes,  who  have 
need  of  the  motives  of  religion  to  restrain  them  from  vice,  to  support  their 
virtue,  and  retain  them  in  the  i)ractice  of  it  till  it  becomes  liahiiital.  which  is  the 
i^reat  point  for  its  security.  .\nd  perhaps  you  are  intlebted  to  her  originally, 
that  is,  to  your  religious  education,  for  the  habits  of  virtue  upon  which  you 
now  justly  value  yourself,  ^'ou  might  easily  display  your  excellent  talents  of 
reasoning  upon  a  less  hazardous  subject,  and  thereby  obtain  a  rank  with  our 
most  distinguished  authors.  P'or  among  us  it  is  not  necessary,  as  among  the 
1  lottentots,  that  a  youth,  to  be  raised  into  the  company  of  men,  should  prove 
his  manhood  by  beating  his  mother. 


J2 


BENJAMIN  FRANKLIN 


"  I  would  advise  you,  therefore,  not  to  attempt  unchainino^  the  tiger,  but  to 
burn  this  piece  before  it  is  seen  by  any  other  person :  whereby  you  will  save 

yourself  a  great  deal  of  mortification  by 
the  enemies  it  may  raise  against  you, 
and  perhaps  a  good  deal  of  regret  and 
repentance.  If  men  are  so  wicked  zci'^/i 
rcligimL  what  would  they  be  //"  icithotii 
it  ?  I  intend  this  letter  itself  as  a  prooj 
of  my  friendship,  and  therefore  add  no 
prflfcssio)is  to  it  ;  but  subscribe  simply 
yours." 

During  the  last  few  years  of  his  life 
Franklin  suffered  from  a  painful  disease, 
which  confined  him  to  his  bed  and  seri- 
ously interfered  with  his  literary  work, 
preventing  him  from  completing  his  bio- 
graphy. During  this  time  he  was  cared 
for  by  his  daughter,  Mrs.  Hache,  who 
resided  in  th(!  same  house  with  him.  He 
died  on  April  17,  1790.  the  immediate 
cause  of  death  being  an  affection  of 
the  lungs.  He  was  buried  beside  his  wife  in  the  cemetery  of  Christ  Church, 
Philadelphia,  the  marble  slab  upon  the  grave  bearing  no  other  inscription  than 
the  name  and  date  of  death.  In  his  early  days  (1728)  he  had  written  the  fol- 
lowing epitaph  for  himself: — 

'I'lIK    IklDV 
OK 

BEXJAMIX   FRAXKLIN, 

PRINTKR 

(r.IKF.     IHE    tONER    OK    AN    (11.1)    liOOK, 

ITS    COM  FNIS    TORN    Ol'T 

AND    SlRllT    OK    KIS    IF.TTERINC,    AND    C;II,DING"), 

KIES    HERE.   FOOD    FOR    WORMS. 

lil'T   THE    WORK    SHAI.E    NOT    ME    LOST, 

FOR  rr  wii.i,  (AS  \\v,  hk.i.ifvfd)  appear  once  more 

IN    A    NEW    AND    MORE    EI.ECiANT    EDITION, 
REVISED    AND    CORRECTED 

11 V 

THE  AL  THOR. 


franklin's   IIR.WK 


JOHN  ADAMS, 

THE    KEVOIvUTIONARY    l'A.'rKIOT    AX'D    STATESMAN. 


N  SEPTEMI)ER,  1774,  there  asscinl)lcd  in  Philadelphia  one 
of  the  greatest  Ijodies  ot"  men  which  the  world  has  ever 
seen.  "  l'"or  solidity  ot"  reason,  force  of  sagacity,  and  wis- 
dom of  conclusion,  "  said  the  L,^reat  Earl  of  Chatham,  ''110 
body  of  iiicii  can  take  precedence  of  the  Continental  Coi?- 
gress."  One  of  the-  foremost  of  that  renowned  Congress 
was  the  man  whose  name  e\ery  schoolboy  associates  with 
American  Independence, — the  name  of  Ji  mx  Adams.  "  He 
was  our  Colossus,"  savs  his  great  colleague,  Thomas  Jef- 
f(M-son  ;  "  the  great  pillar  of  sup[)ort  to  the  13eclaration  of 
Independence,  and  its  ablest  advocate  and  champion  on 
the  lloor  of  the  1  louse,  was  John  Adams.  Not  graceful, 
not  always  (luent,  he  yet  came  out  with  a  power,  both  of  thouglit  and  expres- 
sion, which  moved  us  from  our  seats." 

The  name  of  Atlams  is  "  with  the  country's  woven "  to  a  remarkable 
extent.  The  son  of  the  first  John  Adams  was  John  Quincy  Adams,  also  Presi- 
dent, and  one  of  the  purest  and  aljlest  men  who  ever  sat  in  the  executive  chair. 
After  him  came  his  son,  Charles  bVancis  Adams,  whose  services  as  minister  to 
England  during  the  stormy  days  of  our  great  civil  war  will  not  soon  be  forgot- 
ten.  The  interest  which  we  naturally  feel  in  tliis  remarkable  family  is  increased 
by  the  ample  materials  which  they  have  given  us  to  satisfy  it.  A  fluent  pen 
seems  to  belong  in  the  Adams  line.  A  tendency  to  keep  records  is  a  family 
trait.  The  Diary  of  John  Ouincy  Adams,  in  twelve  large  volumes,  edited  by  his 
son.  is  one  of  our  best  sources  of  the  current  history  of  his  time  ;  antl  Charles 
iM'ancis  Adams  has  also  edited  the  "Life  and  Works  of  John  Adams,"  in  ten 
volumes  ;  so  that  we  not  only  have  in  this  great  line  of  statesmen  a  most 
interesting  subject,  but  also  the  amplest  materials  for  its  study. 

John  Adams  was  born  in  Hraintree,  Massachusetts,  on  the  30th  of  October, 
1735.  His  father  was  a  farmer  of  moderate  means,  a  worthy,  industrious  man, 
toiling  early  and  late.  He  was  anxious  to  give  his  son  a  collegiate  education, 
hoping  that  he  would  become  a  minister.     John  entered  Harvard  College  at  the 

75 


76  JO//X  ADAMS. 

a<;c  of  sixteen.  I  le  had  to  stru_OL,de  with  small  means.  When  he  <rradiiatecl  at 
twenty  years  of  age,  he  was  consideretl  as  having'  received  his  full  share  of  tlie 
small  patrimony  ;  and,  with  his  education  as  his  only  capital,  he  went  out  to  take 
his  place  in  the  conllicts  of  the  world. 

h'or  two  years  John  Adams  livetl  in  Worcester,  then  a  town  of  but  a  few 
hundred  inhabitants,  tcachinL;  a  public  school  antl  studyini,^  law.  When  but 
twenty-two  years  of  ai^e  he  returned  to  his  native  town  of  Hraintree,  and,  open- 
ini^  a  law  office,  devoted  himself  to  study  with  renewed  vii^or.  I  lis  native  jjowers 
of  mind  and  untiriiiL,^  devotion  to  his  profession  caus(;tl  him  to  rise  ra|)i(ily  in 
public  esteem.  In  ( )ct<)ber,  1764,  he  married  Miss  Abigail  Smith,  daughter  of 
Rev.  William  Smith,  pastor  of  the  church  in  Weymouth.  She  was  a  lady  of  rare 
endowments  of  j^rson  and  mind,  and,  by  the  force  of  her  character,  contributed 
not  a  little  to  her  husband's  celebrity. 

DIll'Kll.ril'.S    WITH    KNCI.AXn. 

When  the  mc-moraljle  Stamp  Act  was  issued,  Adams  entered  with  all  the 
ardor  oi  his  soul  into  political  life.  He  drew  up  a  series  of  resolutions,  remon- 
strating against  the  Act,  which  were  adoptetl  at  a  public  meeting  of  citizens  at 
I'raintree,  and  which  were  subsecpieiuly  atlopted,  word  for  word,  by  more  than 
forty  towns  in  the  State.  John  Adams  boldly  took  the  ground  that  the;  Stamp 
Act  was  an  assumption  of  arbitrary  power,  violating  bcjth  the  English  Consti- 
tution anil  the  charter  of  the  province.  It  is  said  that  this  was  the  first  direct 
denial  of  the  unlimited  right  of  Parliament  o\er  the  colonies. 

To  sui)press  the  s[)irit  of  ind(.'pendence,  daily  becoming  more  manifest 
among  the  peopU.',  the  I'ritish  crown  sent  two  regiments  of  soldiers  to  Boston. 
A  more  obnoxious  menace  could  not  have  been  devised.  The  populace  insulted 
the  soldiers  ;  the  soldiers  retaliat(;d  with  insolence  and  threats. 

On  the  5th  of  March,  1770,  a  small  party  of  soldiers,  thus  assailed,  fired 
upon  the  crowd  in  ISoston.  killing  and  wounding  sev(;ral.  Mutual  exasi)eration 
was  now  roused  almost  to  frenzy.  The  captain  and  six  soldiers  were  arrested 
and  tried  for  murder.  \'ery  nobly,  and  with  moral  courage  rarely  ecpialed, 
John  Adams  and  Josiah  Ouincy  undertook  the  task  of  their  defense.  They 
encountennl  unm<^asured  ol)lo(|uy.  They  were  stigmatized  as  deserters  from 
the  cause  of  popular  liberty  and  the  bribed  advocates  of  tyranin'.  Captain 
Preston  and  the  soldiers  were  ac([uitted,  excepting  two,  who  received  a  very 
slight  punishuK'Ut.  Though  Boston  instituted  an  annual  commemoration  of  the 
massacre,  Mr.  Adams'  popularity  suffered  so  little  that  he  was  elected  by  the 
citizens  of  Boston,  to  which  place  he  had  removed,  as  one  of  their  representa- 
tives to  the  colonial  Legislature. 

In  1773,  in  spite  of  the  opposition  of  the  colonists,  several  ships  loaded 
with  tea  were  sent  from  P^ngland  to  Boston.     The  patriots  were  firmly  resolved 


rillL  "BOSTOX  TliA-PARTVr 


77 


that  the  tea  should  not  be  laiuled  ;  aiul  a  band  of  resohite  men,  meeting'  in 
secret,  made  arrangements  to  prevent  it  by  force,  if  necessary.  After  exhaust- 
ing every  lawful  means,  a  party  of  men  disguised  as  Indians  boarded  the 
vessels,  broke  open  the  chests,  and  em[>lied  the  contents  into  the  harbor.  It 
may  be  imagined  that  John  Adams  was  not  a  mere  passive  spectator  in  the 
proceedings  which  thus  led  t<j  the  famous  "Boston  Tea-party." 

John  Adams  was  one  of  the  live  delegates  sent  from  Massachusetts  to  tht 


--^U. 


OLD  nuii.ni\i;  i\  piktov  wiierp,  tiik.  Tr\-i'i.nT  is  sri'i'o>i'.i)  to  h.wf.  1!i:k.n  iiatchicd. 


Continental  Congress.  Hl'  was  entreated  by  a  friend,  the  king's  attorney-gen- 
eral, not  to  accept  his  appointment  as  a  delegate  to  the  Congress.  "Great 
Britain,"  said  the  Attorney  General,  "has  determined  on  her  system.  Her 
power  is  irresistible,  and  will  be  destructive  to  you,  and  to  all  those-who  shall 
persevere  in  opposition  to  her  designs." 

The  heroic  reply  of  John  Adams  was:   "I   know  that  Great   Britain  has 
determined  on  her  system  ;  and   that  very  determination  determines  me  on 


78  JOHN  ADAMS. 

mine.  Vou  know  that  I  have  been  constant  and  uniform  in  my  opposition  to 
her  measures.  The  tlie  is  now  cast.  I  have  passed  the  Rubicon.  -Sink  or 
swim,  live  or  die,  survive  or  jjerish  with  my  country,  is  my  fi.xed,  unaUerable 
determination." 

The  battle  of  lUmktT  Hill  was  fou_L;ht  on  the  17th  of  June,  1775.  The 
ne.xt  afternoon,  which  was  .Sunilay,  Mrs.  Adanis  wrote  to  her  husband  : — 

"The  day,  perhaps  the  decisive  day,  is  come,  on  which  the  fate  of  America 
depends.  .My  bursting'  heart  must  find  vent  at  my  pen.  1  ha\e  just  hc^ard 
that  our  ilear  friend  13r.  Warren  is  no  more.  Charlestown  is  laii!  in  ashes.  The 
battle  bejj^an  upon  our  intrenchments  u[)on  Hunker's  llill,  .Saturday  morniuLf, 
abcnit  thr(;e  o'clock,  and  has  not  ceased  yet ;  and  it  is  now  three  o'clock,  .Sab- 
bath afternoon.  The  constant  roar  of  the  cannon  is  so  distressing  that  we  can- 
not eithc^r  eat,  drink,  or  sleep."  • 

These  scenes  had  aroused  the  country  around  Boston  to  the  very  highest 
pitch  of  e.xcitement.  The  farmers  had  come  rushini^'  in  from  all  the  adjoinini^ 
towns  with  rilh^s,  shot-<4uns,  pitchforks,  and  any  other  weapons  they  could 
grasp.  Thus  a  motley  mass  of  heroic  men,  without  efficient  arms,  supplies, 
powder,  or  discipline,  amounting  to  some  fourteen  thousand,  were  surrounding 
Boston,  which  was  held  by  about  eight  thousand  iiritish  regulars,  supported  by 
a  powerful  lleet. 

Washington  hastened  to  .Massachusetts  to  take  command  of  the  army. 
Five  days  after  his  appointment  i'uomas  jetferson  made  his  a[)pearance  upon 
the  lloor  of  Congress.  A  strong  friendship  imniediately  sprang  up  between 
Adams  and  Jefferson,  which,  with  a  short  interruption,  continued  for  the 
remainder  of  their  lives.  After  a  brit;f  adjournment.  Congress  met  again  in 
.Septc-mber.  The;  battle  was  still  raging  about  P)Oston  ;  and  the  British,  with 
free  ingress  and  (;gress  by  their  fleet,  were  plundering  and  burning  and  commit- 
ting every  kind  of  atrocity  in  all  directions.  John  Adams  presented  and  car- 
ried the  decisive  resolution,  that,  in  vi(;w  of  the  aggressions  and  demands  of 
England,  "  it  is  necessary  that  the  exercise  of  every  kind  of  authority  under 
said  crown  should  be  totally  suppressed."  On  the  7th  of  June,  1776,  Richard 
Henry  Lee,  of  X'irginia,  offered  the  memorable  resolution,  which  John  Adams 
seconded, — 

"  'I'hat  these  United  .States  are,  and  of  right  ought  to  be,  free  and  inde~ 
pendent."  , 

A  committee  was  then  appointed  to  draught  a  Declaration  of  Independ- 
ence. It  consisted  of  Jefferson,  .Xtlams,  Franklin,  Sherman,  and  Livingston. 
Jefferson  and  Adams  were  appointed,  by  the  rest,  a  sub-committee  to  draw  up 
the  Declaration.  At  Mr.  Adams'  earnest  request  Mr.  Jefferson  prepared  that 
immortal  document,  which  embodies  the  fundamental  principles  of  all  human 
rights.     At  this  time  Mr.  Adams  wrote  to  a  friend  : — 


THE  DECLARATION  OF  INDEPENDENCE.  79 

••I  am  cn>,'ajj^ed  in  constant  business. — from  seven  to  ten  in  the  morninj,'  in 
committee,  from  ten  to  live  in  Congress,  and  from  six  to  ten  again  in  committee. 
Our  assembly  is  scarcely  numerous  enough  for  the  business.  Everyl)ocly  is 
engaged  all  day  in  Congress,  antl  all  the:  morning  and  evening  in  committees." 

On  the  4th  of  July,  1776,  the  Declaration  of  Indepeiulence  was  adopted  by 
Congress,  and  signed  by  each  member.  This  was  one  of  the  boldest  acts  i.n 
the  records  of  time.  ICvery  man  who  affixed  his  signature  to  that  paper  thus 
cast  the  glove  of  mortal  defiance  at  the  foot  of  the  greatest  power  on  this 
globe.  The  scene  was  one  upon  which  the  genius  of  both  pen  and  pencil  has 
been  lavished.  In  its  grandeur  it  stands  forth  as  one  of  the  most  sublime  of 
earthly  acts,  f  )f  the  fifty-five  who  signetl  that  Declaration,  there  was  not  prob- 
ably one  who  would  deny  that  its  most  earnest  advocate,  and  its  most  elo([uent 
defender,  was  (ohn  Adams. 

The  day  after  this  momentous  event.  Mr.  Adams  wrote  to  his  wife  as 
follows  : — 

"  \'esterd;)y  the  greatest  question  was  decided  that  was  ever  debated  in 
America  ;  ■:d\(\.  greater,  i)erhaps,  never  was  or  will  l)e  decided  among  men.  A 
resolution  WIS  pass(;d,  without  one  dissenting  colony,  'That  these  United  .States 
are,  and  of  right  ought  to  be,  free  and  independent  States.'  The  day  is  passed. 
The  4th  of  July,  1776,  will  be  a  memorable  epoch  in  the  history  of  America. 
I  am  apt  to  believe  it  will  be  celebrated  by  succeeding  generations  as  the  great 
anniversary  festival.  It  ought  to  be  commemorated,  as  the  day  of  tleliverance, 
by  solemn  acts  of  devotion  to  Almighty  (iotl.  It  ought  to  be  solemnized  with 
pomps,  shows,  games,  sports,  guns,  bells,  bonfires,  ami  illuminations,  from  one 
end  of  the  continent  to  the  other,  from  this  time  forward  forever.  You  will 
think  me  transported  with  enthusiasm  ;  but  I  am  not.  I  am  well  aware  of  the  toil 
and  blood  and  treasure  that  it  will  cost  to  maintain  this  Declaration,  and  sup- 
port and  defend  these  States  ;  yet,  through  all  the  gloom,  I  can  see  that  the  end 
is  worth  more  than  all  the  means,  and  that  posterity  will  triumph,  though  you 
and  I  may  rue,  which  I  hope  we  shall  not." 

Until  November,  1776,  Mr.  Adams  was  assiduous  in  his  attendance  uporj 
Congress,  devoting  himself  with  tireless  diligence  to  his  public  duties.  In  1777 
he  was  appointed  a  delegate  to  France,  to  cooperate  with  I5en)amin  Franklin 
and  Arthur  Lee,  who  were  then  in  I'aris,  in  the  endeavor  to  ol)tain  assistance  in 
arms  and  money  from  the  French  government.  This  was  a  severe  trial  to  his 
patriotism,  as  it  separated  him  from  his  home,  compelled  him  to  cross  the  ocean 
in  winter,  and  exposed  him  to  imminent  peril  of  capture  by  the  British  cruisers. 
Capture  would  lodge  him  in  Newgate.  He  would  be  tried  in  I-jigland  for 
treason,  and  Mr.  Adams  had  no  doubt  that  they  would  proceed  to  execute  him. 
But,  on  the  other  hand,  our  country  was  in  extremest  peril.  It  was  clear  that, 
without  the  aid  of  some  friendly  bj.iropean  power,  our  feeble  armies  must  be 


80 


JOHN  ADAMS. 


crushed.     As   was  to  b6   expected  of  the  man,  he  resolved   to  run   all  the 
risks. 

It  was  several  months  before  a  friijj^ate  could  be  t^^ot  ready.  On  a  cold  day 
in  February,  177S,  a  wintry  wind  rou_<,dicnin_ijf  Massachusetts  Bay,  Mr.  Adams 
took  a  sad  leave  of  his  wife  and  three  children,  and  accompanied  by  his  son, 


John  Quincy,  then  but 
rri<,fate  Boston,  ridinj^ 
The  V  o  )'  a  i^-  e  w  a  s 
five  days  out,  on  the 
were  seen,  probably 
Two  of  thcni  were 
sailer,  continued  the 
clouds    hastened     the 


ten  years  of  age,  was  rowed  out  to  the 
at  anchor  at  some  distance  from  the  shore, 
stormy,  uncomfortable,  and  eventful.  When 
151!)  of  l-'ehruary,  three  large  bjiglish  frigates 
cruising  for  the  Boston.  They  gave  chase. 
soon  run  out  of  sight.  The  third,  a  better 
pursuit.  The  wind  rose  to  a  gale.  The 
approach  of  the  darkness  of  the  night,  in 

which  the  ships  lost 
sight  of  each  other  ; 
and  when  the  morn- 
ing dawned  the 
British  frigate  was 
nowhere  to  be  seen. 
On  the  1 4th  of 
March  another  sail 
hove  in  sight.  Trust- 
ing that  it  might 
prove  a  prize  which 
they  would  be  able 
to  take,  they  gave 
chase,  and  it  was 
soon  overtaken  nd 
captured.  Captain 
Tucker  begged  Mr. 
Adams  to  retire  to 
a  place  of  safety  be- 
low. Soon  after,  as 
the  balls  of  the  hos- 
tile ship  were  flying 
over  their  heads, 
Captain  Tucker  saw  Mr.  Adams  on  deck  with  a  musket  in  his  hand,  fighting  as 
a  common  marine.  In  the  excitement  of  the  moment  he  rushed  up  to  his 
illustrious  passenger,  exclaiming,  "Why  are  you  here,  sir?  I  am  commanded 
to  carry  you  safely  to  Europe,  and  I  will  do  it ;  "  and,  seizing  him  in  his  arms, 
he  forcibly  carried  him  from  the  scene  of  danger. 


Till".    MiiNrMF.NT    ON    T.l'NKIR    llll.l.. 


EXriiK/ENCE  TX  Hi  'ROPE.  S  i 

On  the  morninij  of  March  30th  th(.'y  made  Honleaiix  lij^hl-hoiise,  and  ran 
safely  into  the  river.  There  was  a  TVench  ship  in  ihi-  stream,  and  Mr.  .\tlam;; 
and  his  son  were  invited  to  a  very  e-le^ant  entertainment,  serxed  up  in  st)  le  to 
which  thi;y  had  been  (juite  unaccustomed  in  their  fruL,ral  provincial  home.  'I'hcy 
tlutre  learned  that  Dr.  I'Vanklin.  who  had  been  receivfd  by  Louis  X\'I.  with 
threat  pomp,  and  who,  from  his  courtesy  of  manmtrs,  affability,  aiul  aptness  in 
payinsjf  compliments,  was  admirably  ad.iptiul  to  impress  the  I'Vench  mind,  had 
already  succeeded  in  conciudinL;  a  treaty  with  I'rance, 

MK.  Adams'  luiNr  .manni;ks. 

Indeed,  it  is  probaljly  fortunate  that  Mr.  Adams  did  not  arrive  any  sooner. 
He  was  not  at  all  at  home  in  I-'rench  diplomacy.  While  I'Vanklin  was  greatly 
admired  and  cart-sscd,  .Mr.  .\dams  was  decideiUy  unpopular  in  the  Parisian 
court.  His  virtues  and  his  defects  were  those  of  a  blunt,  straightforward,  un- 
polished l*2nglishman.  In  Paris  he  met  with  David  Hartley,  a  member  of  the 
P)ritish  House  of  Ccjinmons.  They  came  together  like  two  icebergs.  Mr, 
Hartley,  on  his  return  to  London,  said  to  .Sir  John  Temple  and  others:  "  Voui* 
Mr.  Adams,  that  you  represent  as  a  man  of  such  good  sense — he  may  have 
that ;  but  he  is  the  most  ungracious  man  I  ever  saw." 

Mr.  Adams'  tirst  interview  with  the  President  of  the  Parliament  of  I'or- 
deau.x  was  alike  characteristic  of  tht:  atTable  I'renchman  and  the  bluff  Yankee. 
The  premier  received  him  not  only  respectfully  and  politely,  but  with  affection 
which  was  even  tende'r. 

'T  am  charmed,"  said  he,  "  to  see  you.  I  have  long  felt  for  you  a  brother's 
love.  I  have  trembled  for  you  in  the  great  perils  through  which  you  have 
passed.  You  have  encountered  many  dangers  and  sufferings  in  the  cause  of 
liberty,  and  I  have  sympathized  with  you  in  tlunn  all,  for  I  ha\e  sufh-Ted  in  that 
cause  myself." 

We  learn  how  Mr.  Adams  received  these  cordial  advances  by  the  following 
ungracious  entry  in  his  journal  : — 

"  Mr.  Bondfield  had  to  interpret  all  this  effusion  of  compliments.  I  thought 
it  never  would  come  to  an  end  ;  but  it  did  ;  and  I  concluded,  upon  the  whoK;, 
there  was  a  form  of  sincerity  in  it,  decorated,  and  almost  suffocated,  with  PVench 
compliments." 

In  a  sketch  of  his  colleagues,  Mr.  Adams  writes  of  Dr.  Franklin  : — 

"That  he  was  a  great  genius,  a  great  wit,  a  great  humorist,  a  great  satirist, 
a  great  politician,  is  certain.  That  he  was  a  great  philosopher,  a  great  moralist, 
a  great  statesman,  is  more  questionable."  On  the  other  hand.  Dr.  Franklin 
writes  of  his  colleague :  "  Mr.  Adams  is  always  an  honest  man,  often  a  wise 
one  ;  but  he  is  sometimes  completely  out  of  his  senses." 

Mr.   Adams'   earnest  patriotism   induced  him  to  practice  the  most  rigid 


«2  JOHN  ADAMS. 

economy  while  abroad,  that  Congress  mioht  be  put  to  as  little  expensi;  as  pos- 
sible. The  treaty  ot  alliance  with  b" ranee  was  alreaily  tornieil  before  his  arrival, 
and,  soon  tintlin;^-  that  there  was  but  little  for  him  to  ilo  in  I'aris,  he  ri'solvetl 
that  he  had  rather  run  the  gauntlet  through  all  the  Dritish  men-of-war,  and  all 
the  storms  of  the  ocean  on  a  retiu'ii,  than  remain  where  lu-  was. 

( )n  the  17th  of  |une,  1779,  he  t-mbarked  on  boaril  the  I'rench  frigate 
'Sensible,"  and  arrived  safely  in  lloston  with  his  soil  on  the  2d  of  .\u14ust,  after 
an  abst'nce  of  seventeen  months. 

In  September  Mr.  .\dams  was  chosen  a^ain  to  i^-o  to  I'aris,  there  to  hoUl 
himself  in  reatliness  to  n«!i;otiate  a  trc'aty  of  peace  and  of  commerce  with  (Ireat 
IJritain  so  soon  as  th(;  British  cabiiH.l  mii^ht  b(,'  found  willing  to  listen  to  such 
pro])osals.  The  Clu^valier  d('  la  Luzerni:,  tin;  hrench  Ministi'r,  who  had  accom- 
panied Mr.  Adams  to  America,  wrote  him  a  very  polite  note,  connr.itulatin^- 
him  upon  his  ap|)(>intment,  and  olferini.;'  him  a  passas^c  in  the  return  I'rench 
frigate.  M.  Marliois  had  ])een  so  much  impressed  with  llic  distinguished  talents 
of  Mr.  Ailams'  son,  lohn  (juincy,  that  lu;  sent  his  father  a  special  injunction  to 
carry  him  back,  that  he  mi^ht  profit  by  the  athanta^-es  of  a  buropean  education. 

( )n  the  I  uh  of  November,  I77().  Mr.  Adams  was  a^ain  on  board  the 
"Sensible,"  outward  bound,  aiul  reached  I'aris  on  the  ^ih  )f  bCbruar\',  1 7Sc:i. 
lie  was  to  remain  in  the  l''rench  capital  until  an  opportunity  should  present 
itself  to  open  negotiations  with  <in'at  liritain.  The  Count  Av.  X'ei'L^ennes 
assumed  that  brance,  our  powcrtul  all\',  should  be  specialK'  consulted  upon  any 
terms  which  were  to  1  <■  pre-^eiiti'd  to  the  Hritish  cabinet  ;  and  that  it  would  be 
iiianifestlv  unjust  for  the  I'liiicd  .States  to  neL^oiiate  a  separate  |)eace  with  (ireat 
Britain  without  the  approxal  of  lln'  b'rench  nation.  (  )n  tlie  other  h.ind,  Mr. 
Adams  assumed  that  the  I  nited  .Statics  IkhI  not  placed  their  destinies  in  the 
hantls  of  b"rance,  so  as  to  lose  all  inde[)(Mident  power.  1  le  acted  upon  the 
princii)le  that  sympathy  with  .\mericans,  as  victims  of  op]»ressi()n.  IkuI  no  inllu- 
•fMici-'  wh,ite\-er  with  brance;  that  the  b'rench  ( iovernment,  in  its  alliance,  was 
inllueiiced  by  i)iire  and  undiluted  selfishness.  I  )r.  iM'anklin  did  not  sym|)athize 
in  these  \iews,  and  did  not  L;i\e  Mr.  .\tlams  his  support.  Much  annoyed,  Mr. 
Adams  at  length  decitled  to  m)  to  I  loUand.  In  takinu;'  his  departure,  he  wrote 
a  letter  to  the  Count  di;  X'e-ri^'ennes,  which  diil  but  incrc.'ast;  the  alienation.  The 
Count  was  so  indignant  that  he  sent  to  the  Con^^ress  at  I'hiladelphia,  soliciting 
the  recall  of  the  lommissions  which  had  been  intrusted  to  Mr.  .\dapis.  ' 

Mr.  Adams  e\(r  regarded,  and  justlv,  his  mission  to  Holland  as  the  great- 
est success  of  his  life.  (  )n  the  \'erv  dav  that  he  was  received  by  the  States- 
General  h(.'  ])roi)osed  a  treaty  of  amity  and  commerce  ;  and  on  the  7th  of  Octo- 
ber, 17.S2,  hatl  th(;  pleasure;  of  announcing-  the  second  alliance  entered  into  by 
the  I'aited  .States  as  a  sovereign  power.  The  j^lory  of  tlv  i^reat  event  belonj^s 
undeniably  to  John  .\dams.     It  was  deemed  so  importanc  that  two  iiK'dals  were 


II.LXESS  IX  FRANCE.  83 

engraved  in  Holland  in  its  commemoration.  "  Monsieur,"  said  a  I'Vench  t^entle- 
man  to  Mr.  Adams  on  his  return  to  Paris,  "you  are  the;  W'ashiny^ton  of  nej^-^otia- 
tion."  Mr.  Adams  was  hit^^hly  gratit'ied  by  the  compliments  which  were  lavished 
upon  him  ;  but  he  intimates  that  Ur.  l*"ranklin  would  die  of  jealousy  should  he 
hear  thtMn. 

After  a  vast  amount  of  di|)lomatic  maneuvering-,  a  definite  treaty  of  peace 
with  l-ln^land  was  signed  at  Paris  on  the  21st  of  January,  1783.  The  reaction 
from  the  e.xcitement,  toil,  and  an.\ii;ty  through  which  Mr.  Adams  had  passetl 
threw  him  into  a  fevcn-.  lie  occujjied  the  Hotel  du  Roi,  in  the  Place  du  Car 
rousel.  It  was  a  thoroughfare  o\cr  whose  pavements  a  constant  strt-am  of 
carriage's  was  rolling,  with  a  nois(;  like;  thunder,  incc^s^antly  tor  twciUyoiK;  hours 
out  of  thi;  twenty  four.  ISurning  with  fever,  he  lound  sleep  im[)ossible.  His 
frientls  despaircul  of  his  recovcM'y. 

As  soon  as  Mr.  Adams  could  be  rcmoxcd  he  was  taken  to  .AulfMiil,  where 
he  enjoyed  the  pure  air  and  silence  of  the  country.  lUit  recovf.'ry  was  very 
slow.  l'"et:ble,  emaciated,  lar.guid,  his  friends  athised  him  to  go  to  England  to 
drink  th(^  wattn's  of  ISath.  On  Monday,  the  2(^th  of  (  )clo])er,  he  set  out,  with 
his  son  and  one  servant,  for  London.  While  .Mr.  .\dams  was  in  kaigland,  still 
drooping  and  desponding,  he  received  dispatches  urging  the  iiulispensable  ne- 
cessity of  his  repairing  immcnliately  to  .\msterdam  to  nc'gotiate  anotlier  loan. 

"It  was  winter,"  writes  Mr.  Adanis.  "  My  health  was  \-ery  delicate.  A 
journey  to  Holland,  at  that  season,  would  very  [)rol)ably  put  an  rwA  to  my 
labors.  1  scarcelv  saw  a  possibility  of  survi\ing  it.  Xexcrtheless,  no  man 
knows  what  he  can  bear  till  he  tries.  A  few  momi-nts'  rellection  d(.'lermined 
me." 

While  in  Paigland  Mr.  Atlams  had  enjoycul  the  inteiisf;  gratification  of  hear- 
ing (ieorge  III.,  from  his  throne,  announce  to  Par',  nent  that  he  had  cor.cluded 
a  treaty  o{  peace,  in  which  he.ecognized  theindepei.  leiice  ()f  tl  ■  I'nited  .States, 
While  in  Holland  P'reilerick  11.  of  Prussia  made  overtures  to  Mr.  .\dams  for  a 
treaty  of  commerce.  At  the  sami;  lime  Mr.  .\dams  receivcid  a  new  commission, 
authorizing  him  to  act  with  PVanklin  and  Jefferson  to  negotiate  treaties  of  com- 
merce with  any  of  the  foreign  powers.  As  it  was  evident  that  his  resilience 
abroad  was  to  be  exteiuled,  he  wrote  to  Mrs.  Adams  to  join  him  with  their 
family.  The  happy  reunion  took  place  in  tin;  summc-r  of  1 7S4 ;  and  they 
selected  for  their  resichmce  a  qui(?t  retreot  at  Auteuil,  near  Paris,  .And  now 
came  probal)ly  the  happiest  period  of  Mr,  .\dams'  lif(\  I  lis  wife,  his  eldest 
son,  John  Ouincy,  th(Mi  rising  into  a  youth  of  great  promise,  and  his  daughter, 
whose  l)f!autyand  accomplishments  made  her  justly  the  pride  of  both  father  and 
mother,  were  with  him. 

On  the  24th  of  I'ebruary,  1785,  peace  with  England  having  been  pro- 
claimed,  Congress  appointed   Mr.  Adams  envoy  to  the  Court  of  .St.  James. 


84  JOn\^  AD.  IMS. 

He  crossed  tin;  Channel  to  assume  these  new,  arduous,  and  delicate  responsi- 
bilities, lie  was  now  to  meet,  face  to  face,  the  Kin;/ of  I'ln-'land,  who  had  so 
lony  rei^arded  him  as  a  traitor,  anti  a^^ainst  whose  despotic  p(nver  he  had  assisted 
the  nation  so  successfully  to  contend.  Mr.  Adams,  in  his  despatch  to  Mr.  Jay, 
has  left  an  interesting;  acccjunt  :>!  his  tirst  public  reception. 

lie  rode  to  court,  by  invitation  of  Lord  Carmarllu-n,  in  his  coach.  In  thfj 
ante-chamljer  he  found  the  room  lull  of  ininist(;rs  of  state,  generals,  bishops, 
and  all  sorts  of  courtiers,  each  waiting;'  his  turn  tor  an  aud'encc'.  lie  was  soon 
conducted  into  the  kind's  closet,  where  he  was  left  alone  widi  the  kins^-  and  his 
secretary  of  state.  Mr.  Adams,  according'  to  the  court  etinuette,  upon  which  he 
had  carefully  informed  himself  niatle  three  low  bows, — one  at  the  door,  another 
wlicn  he  made  a  couple  of  steps,  anil  the  third  when  he  stood  before  the  kin_<^. 
lie  th(Mi,  in  a  xoice  tremulous  with  the  emotion  which  the  scene  was  calculated 
to  inspire,  addressed  his  Majesty  in  the  following-  words  : — 

".Sire,  th(^  l/nited  .States  of  America  have  appointed  me  their  minister 
plenipotentiary  to  vour  Majesty,  and  have  directed  me  to  deliver  to  your  Majesty 
this  letter,  wliich  contains  tht'  e\iil(Mice  of  it.  It  is  in  oliedience  to  their  e.xpress 
commands  that  1  ha\(^  the  honor  to  assure  your  Majesty  of  tluMr  unanimous 
disposition  and  desire  to  cultivate  the  most  friendly  and  liberal  intercourse 
between  )'our  .Majesty's  subjects  and  their  citizens,  and  ot  their  best  wishes  for 
your  Majesty's  health  and  for  that  of  the  royal  family. 

"The  appointment  of  a  minister  from  the  I'niletl  States  to  your  Majesty's 
court  will  form  an  epoch  in  the  history  of  iui'dand  and  .\merica.  I  think 
myself  more  fortunate  than  all  my  f(;llow-citizens  in  JKuiiiL;"  the  tlistiiiv^'uished 
hoPior  to  Ix;  the  tu'st  to  stand  in  your  ^Iajesty's  royal  presence  in  a  diplomatic 
characte-r  ;  antl  I  shall  esteem  myself  the  happiest  of  men  if  I  can  be  ii.stru- 
mental  in  recommending;-  my  country  more  and  more  to  your  .Majesty's  royal 
b(Mi'.;volence,  and  of  restoriiiL,''  the  entire  (esteem,  conlidence,  and  allection,  or,  in 
better  words,  the  oUl  goodnature  and  the  old  harmony  between  people  who, 
though  separated  by  an  ocean  and  under  different  governments,  ha\-e  the  same 
lanj^aiaL'.e,  a  similar  religion,  and  kindred  blood.  I  bt^i^  your  Majesty's  permis- 
sion to  atld,  that  althouLi'h  I  have  somi'times  before  been  intrusted  by  my  coun- 
try, it  was  never,  in  my  whole  life,  in  a  manner  so  at^^reeable  to  myself." 

The  kin^;'  listened  to  this  aildrt'ss  in  evident  emotion,  lb;  seemed  not  a 
little  at,ntated  ;  for  to  him  it  was  an  hour  of  deep  humiliation.  \\'ith  a  voice 
even  more  tremulous  than  that  with  which  Mr.  Adams  had  spoken,  he  replied  :— 

"Sir,  the  circumstances  of  this  audience;  arc;  so  extraordinary,  the  lanL:^uai.;e 
y(ni  have  now  held  is  so  e.xtremely  proper,  antl  the  fe(>lini;s  you  hav<;  discover{;d 
so  justly  adapted  to  the  occasion,  that  I  must  say  that  I  not  only  recei\c  with 
pleasure  the  assurance  of  the  friendly  disposition  of  the  people  of  the  United 
States,  but  that  I  am  very  j^dad  that  the   choice  has   fallen  upon  you  as  their 


INTERVIEW  WITH  THE  KING. 


XS 


minister.      Hut  I   wish    you,  sir,  to   b(;li(:vc,  ami   that   it  may  be   u!i(l(M-stoocl  in 
America,  that   I  have  done 


nothing;  in  the  hitt;  contest 
but  what  I  thouL^ht  myself 
indispensabh"  liound  to  do 
by  the  duty  which  I  owed  to 
my  i)eo[)l(;.  1  will  be  frank 
\vith  you.  I  was  the  last  to 
conform  to  the  separation  ; 
but    th(;   separation    having 


H,r 


been  made,  and  liav- 
iiiL;   become   inevita- 
ble,   I    have    always 
said,   as   I   say  now, 
that   1  would  b('   the 
first    to      meet     the 
fri(!ndship    of     the; 
United  .Statc:s  as  an  independ- 
ent  power.       The    moment    I 
see  such  seritimeiUs  and   lan- 
i^uai^t;  as  yours  prevail,  and  a 
disposition  to  ^'ive  this  country 
tht;   preference,   that   moment 
I    shall   say.    Let    tin;  circum- 
stances of  lan^aia^e,  n^li^ion, 
and    blood     have     their     full 
effect," 

As  Great  Britain  did  not  condescend  to  appoint  a  minister  to  the  I'nited 
States,  and  as  Mr,  Ailams  felt  that  \\v.  was  accomplishi^^■  but  little,  1k'  solicited 


THE    AllAi  K    I'N    KluTKKS    AT    Sl'K  I  NCI'I  KI.I),    M*SS.,    IN    I786. 


86  JOHN  ADAMS. 

permission  to  return  to  his  own   country,  and   reached  his  rural  home  in  Brain- 
tree,  from  whicii  he  had  so  Icmiil;'  been  absent,  in  June  of  i  7SS. 

W'lien  some  persons  accused  Mr.  Adams  of  bcnni:,;-  co\ertly  in  favor  of 
monarchical  institutions,  Mr.  Jefferson  re|)]ie(.l :  "  Gentlemen,  )'ou  do  not  know 
that  man.  Thenj  is  not  u|)oii  this  earth  ;i  more;  jjerfectly  honest  man  than  |ohn 
Adams.  It  is  not  in  liis  nature  to  meditate  anything'  which  he  would  not  i)ul)lish 
o  the  world.  1  kn.)w  him  well  ;  and  1  repeat,  that  a  more  h(jnest  man  never 
issued  from  the  hands  of  his  Creator." 

In  1787  delei^ates  we-re  appointetl  by  the  various  .States  of  the  Confederacy 
to  form  a  Constitution  for  the  I'nited  .States  of  America.  Tlu;)'  met  in  Inde 
pendencc  Mall,  in  Philadelphia,  wlu;re  thi;  ^reat  Declaration  had  b(;en  siu^ned. 
The  Constitution  which  they  drew  up  was  accepted  by  the  .States,  and  we  became 
a  nation.  George  Washini^^ton  was  unanimously  chosen  President  for  four 
years,  and  John  Adams  \  ice-President. 

'iiii:   I'lRsr  \'ici:-rKi:sn)]:xT. 

During-  tlu;  first  Pi'esidency,  CoiiLjress  was  tossed  by  an^ry  passions  and 
storm\'  debates,  liodi  \\  ashin^ton  and  .Adams  were  assailetl  with  intensest 
bitterness.  ])oth  were  accused  of  monarchical  tendencies,  and  (.)f  fondness  for 
the  pom[j  and  pa^^^eantry  of  royalty.  The  democratic  party  was  now  rapidly 
risin<^  into  controlling-  ])ower.  .Still  both  W'ashinj^ton  and  Adams  were  reelected, 
and  aL^ain,  on  the  41)1  of  March,  1793.  took  the  oaths  of  office. 

lust  about  this  time  the  I'rench  Revolution  shook  the  continent  of  b'urope. 
Mr.  Adams  felt  no  sympathy  with  the  I'rench  people  in  this  strui^qle  ;  for  he  had 
no  confidence  in  their  j^ower  of  self-government,  and  uttc'Hy  abhorred  tlu;  athe- 
istic character  of  those  pliilosoplicrs,  who,  in  his  jud^-ment,  inaugurated  the 
moNcmcnt.  (  )ii  the  other  hand,  J(;llerson's  sympathies  were  strongly  eidisted 
in  behalf  of  the  p'renrh  jx'ople,  struggling  to  throw  off  tin?  )'oke  of  intoh^'able 
despollsm.  1  lence  originat^'d  the  alienation  between  these  two  distinguished 
men.  Washington  at  first  hailed  the  I'Vench  Revolution  with  hoi)e  ;  but  as  its 
tlisorders  became  mort- dext^loped  he  leanetl  more  strongly  to  the  views  of  Mr. 
Adams.  'l"wo  \vk\  powerhil  parties  were  thus  soon  organized.  Adams  was  at 
the  head  of  the  one  whose  sympathies  were  with  luigland.  Jellerson  led  the 
other,  in  sympathy  with  I'r.ince. 

luigland  proclaimed  war  against  the  iM'ench  republicans  ;  played  the  tyrant 
over  weaker  nations  upon  the  ocean  ;  ami,  des|)ising  our  feeble  navy,  insulted 
and  harassed  our  commerce.  This  conduct  swept  the  curnnit  of  |)opi'lar  fet.'ling 
increasingly  toward  Mr.  Jc^tferson  and  his  party.  L'pon  the  retirement  of 
Washington,  at  the  close;  of  his  second  Presidential  term,  there  was  a  V(M"v  hotly 
contested  election  ;  and  Mr.  Adams,  by  a  slender  majority,  was  chosen  President, 
and   Thomas  |etferson,  X'ice-President. 


RETURN  TO  PRIVATE  LIFE.  87 

Those  were  stormy  days,  and  it  nHiuircd  L;rcat  wistlom  safely  to  navisji-ate 
the  ship  of"  state.  The  excitement  wliich  the  I'rencli  Revohition  created  in  this 
country,  as  the  community  rant^ed  themselves  on  the  side  of  luii^land  or  of 
iM'ance,  was  intense.  l""or  four  years  Mr.  Adams  stru;4L;led  throuj^h  almost  a 
constant  tempest  of  assaults.  1  le  was  nt;ver  a  po[)ular  man.  Flu;  ])ariy  arrayed 
aj^'ainst  him,  with  the  \'ic(!  I'resident  at  its  head,  was  powerful  in  numjjers,  and 
still  more  powerful  in  ahilil\'.  lie  was  not  a  man  of  conciliatory  manners  or  of 
winning-  speech.  .After  four  years  of  harassment,  which  must  have  been  the  tour 
least  happy  years  of  his  lifci,  In;  was  mortified  by  losinij;-  a  reelection.  J(.;llerson 
was  chosen  PresitK.-nt  ;  and  Aaron  ISurr,  X'iced^resident ;  and  John  Ad.uns  was 
left  to  retiuMi  to  his  farm  at  ( Juincy.  1  lis  chagrin  was  so  j^reat  as  to  lead  nim 
to  the  lamentable  mistake  of  refusinL,^  to  remain  in  Philadelphia  to  witr.ess  the 
inauguration  of  his  successful  rival.  There  ensued  a  breach  in  the  friendship  of 
these  illustrious  men  which  was  not  closed  for  thirteen  years. 

Al)out  th(;  time  of  Mr.  Adams'  retirement,  his  eldest  son,  who  was  mar- 
ried, and  settled  in  Xew  \'()rk,  suddenly  (.lied,  leavin^^'  to  his  fither's  care  a  wife 
and  two  infant  children.  He  then  spoke  of  this  event  as  the  deepest  attliction 
of  his  lite.  He  was  then  sixty-si.K  years  of  a^^e.  A  ([uarter  of  a  century  still 
reir.ained  to  him  before  he  died.  He  s^renerally  avoided  all  public  ^atherin^s, 
and  took  little  part  in  political  questions,  devoting"  his  time  mainly  to  the  culti- 
vation of  his  farm.  When  Mn^land,  lookinj4'  contemptu<nisly  upon  our  feel)le 
navy,  jjersistetl  in  the  outra^^e  of  searchiuL^  American  ships,  both  lohn  Adams 
antl  his  son,  John  Ouincy,  nobly  supported  the  polic)'  of  Mr.  Jefferson  in  resentin^^ 
these  outraj^es.  It  seems  strange  that  a  man  could  be  found  in  America  wiiliny^ 
to  sul)mit  to  such  insohince.  Hut  f  )r  this  Mr.  Adams  was  bitterly  accused  of 
beiiiL^-  recreant  to  his  principles,  and  ofjoinini,''  the  party  who  were  char^'ed 
with  seekint;-  ;in  excuse  for  draL^^iuL;  our  countrx'  into  a  war  ai_;ainst  I'.n^land, 
that  we  miiL^ht  thus  aid  iM'ance.  On  this  f)ccasion  lolm  Adams,  f)r  the  tu'st 
time  since  his  retirement.  l)rokt' silc:nce,  and  drew  up  a  very  able  paper,  exposing 
the  atrocity  of  the  Dritish  pretensions.  Mr.  Atlams  had  been  associated  with  a 
|)arty  hostile  to  I'rance,  and  in  fa\or  of  submission  to  the  Hritisli  pretensions. 
In  advocating  ri>sistance,  he  was  rcgarcU^d  as  abandoning  his  old  friends,  and 
with  bitt'u'  animosity  was  he  assailed. 

MR.    ADAMs'    IIONU",    \AVV.. 

In  i.'^iS,  wluMi  Mr.  Adams  was  eighty-two  years  of  age,  liis  noble  wife,  who 
had  sharetl  with  him  the  joys  and  griefs  of  more  than  'lalf  a  century,  tlicd,  at  the 
age  of  sevc!nty-fV)ur.  Tin'  event  threw  over  him  a  shade  of  sadness  wlv'.h  never 
disap]iearccl.  .V  gentleman  who  visited  Ouincy  a  \'ear  or  two  before  her  tleath 
gave  a  descrii)tion  of  the  interview.  Mr.  Adams  was,  in  body,  very  infirm,  tot- 
tering and  shaking  with  age  ;  but  his  mind  seemed  ,'s  vigorous,  and  his  heart  as 


88 


JOHN  ADAMS. 


>*^^^^~ 


young,  as  ever.  There  was  a  boy's  joyousness  and  elasticity  in  his  hearty  laugh. 
He  joked,  was  full  of  fun,  and  talked  about  everybody  and  everything  with  the 
utmost  freedom  and  abandon.  His  knowledge  seemed  to  his  visitor  bound- 
less ;  for  he  was  ecjually  at  home  upon  whatever  subject  might  be  introduced. 
Nothing  could  be  more  entertaining  than  his  conversation,  it  was  so  replete  with 
anecdote  and  lively  sallies  of  wit. 

While  thus  conversing,  Mrs.  Adams  came  in, — a  tall  and  stately  lady  of 
rather  formal  address.  "  A  cap  of  exquisite  lace  surrounded  features  still  ex- 
hibiting intellect  and  energy.     Her  dress  was  snowy  white,  antl  there  was  that 

immaculate  neatness  in  her  a[)pear- 
ance  which  gives  to  age  almost  the 
sweetness  of  youth.  With  less  warmth 
of  manner  and  sociableness  than  Mr. 
Adams,  she  was  sufficiently  gracious, 
and  her  occasional  remarks  betrayetl 
intellectual  vigor  and  strong  sense. 
The  ^uest  went  awav,  feelin;"'  that  he 
should  never  again  behold  such  living 
specimens  of  the  'great  old.'  " 

While  his  drooping  frame  and 
feeble  step  and  dimmed  eye  showed 
the  ravages  of  years,  Mr.  Adams'  mind 
retained  its  wonted  \igor.  Me  read 
until  his  vision  failed,  and  was  then 
read  to,  many  hours  i;very  day.  lie 
lo\ed,  in  conversation  with  his  friends, 
to  recall  the  scenes  of  his  younger 
yi.'ars,  and  to  fight  his  battles  over 
again.  His  son,  John  Ouincy,  rose  to 
distinction,  and  occupied  high  posts 
of  honor  at  home  and  abroad.  In 
1825  his  parental  pritle  was  gratified  by  the  elevation  of  his  son  to  the  chair 
which  the  father  had  honored  as  President  of  the  United  .States.  When  John 
Ouincy  .\dams  received  a  note  from  Rufus  King,  informing  him  of  his  election, 
he  inclosetl  it  to  his  father,  with  the  following  lines  from  his  own  pen,  under 
date  of  I'Y'ljruary  9,  1825  : — 

Mv  DKAK  AND  iioxiiKKi)  FAriiioR: — The  iuclosed  note  from  Mr.  King  v.ill 
inform  you  of  the  event  of  this  day  ;  upon  which  I  can  only  olfer  you  my  con- 
gratulations, and  ask  your  blessing  and  prayers. 

Your  affectionate  and  dutiful  son, 

John  Quincv  Adams. 


ni.K  xa Hi  c'lirRtii,  iioskix. 


DEATH  OF  ADAMS  AND  JEFFERSON.  89 

John  Adams  was  now  ninety  years  of  age.  His  enfeebled  powers  indicated 
that  his  end  was  drawing-  nigh.  The  4th  of  July,  1826,  came.  The  nation  had 
made  arrangements  for  a  more  than  usually  brilliant  celebration  of  diat  anni- 
versary. Adams  and  Jefferson  still  lived.  It  was  hoped  that  they  might  be 
brought  together,  at  some  favored  spot,  as  the  nation's  guests.  Hut,  as  the 
time  drew  near,  it  was  evident  that  neither  of  them  could  bear  a  journey.  On 
Friday  morning,  the  30th  of  June,  a  gentleman  called  upon  .Mr.  .\dams  to  obtain 
a  toast  to  be  presented  on  the  4th  of  July  at  the  celebration  at  Ouincy.  "I 
give  you,"  said  he,  "  Indcpcndouc  /orcz'ci'." 

He  was  now  rapitUy  declining.  On  the  morning  of  the-  4th  his  physician 
judged  that  he  would  scarcely  survive  die  day.  There  was  the  ringing  of  bells, 
the  exultant  music  of  martial  bands,  the  thunders  of  artillery  from  ships  and  forts 
from  hills  and  valleys,  echoing  all  over  our  land,  as  rejoicing  millions  welcomed 
the  natal  day  of  the  nation.  Mr.  Atlams,  upon  his  dying  couch,  listened  to  these 
sounds  of  joy  with  silent  emotion.  "  Do  you  know  what  day  it  is  ?"  some  one 
inquired.  "Oh,  yes  !"  he  replied:  "it  is  the  glorious  4th  of  July.  God  bless 
it!  God  bless  you  all  !  It  is  a  great  and  glorious  day."  "Thomas  Jefferson," 
he  murmured  at  a  later  hour  to  himself,  "  still  survives."  These  were  his  last 
words.  Hut  he  was  mistaken.  An  hour  or  two  before,  the  spirit  of  Jefterson 
had  taken  its  flight.  The  sands  of  his  own  long  and  memorable  life  were  now 
run  out,  and  gently  he  passed  away  into  that  sleep  from  which  there  is  no 
earthly  waking. 


VIKW    ()!■    TllK    CAl'lTOL,    WASHINGTON. 


JOHN    JAY, 


FIRST    CHIfCF    JUSTICF    U  l-^    TIII^:     rrxiTKO     STA  rF:S 

SUl'KKMK    CUI.'Kl'. 


III'IX,    in    16S5,    Louis    XI\'.    of    l"raiic(;    revoked    the 

lulict    of    Xantt's,    that     famous    act    of    tok'ration 

uiulcr  which    hrcnch   I'rolestaiUs  had  for  so  lon^" 

li\cd   and    lloiirishcd,    his   l/i^otry  set    ill    motion 

forces  whose  i;tlorts  reached  e\ery  nation  of  the 

earth,    and    turnetl    the    current    of    history    for 

centuries  afti.'r.      AmoUL;'  the  muUitudes  of  incUis- 

trious  antl   ingenious  men  who  were  then  driven 

from  I'rance-  to  other  lands  was  one  Pierri;  |ay,  a 

merchant  of  La  ]\ochelle,  who  tied  to  I'^n^laiKJ  to 

escape    persecution.       Ills    son.    a    \\'(;st     India 

merchant,  came   to   Xew  \'ork.  antl   married  the 

daughter  ;)f  <')ne  of  the  early   Dutch  settlers;    and 

thus  ilieir  ilistin^uishetl  son,  John    [ay,  one  of  the  founders 

of  our  L^overnment,   and   its   llrst  chief    justice,  was  remarkable  amony  early 

American  statesmen  as  having-  not  a  drop  of  luiolish  blood  in  his  veins. 

'Jliere  is  little  in  the  history  of  Jay  that  is  picturescpie  or  striking- ;  but 
there  are  few  amon^'  the  worthies  of  the  Revolution  to  whom  posterity  owes  a 
greater  debt.      "Life,"  says  the  i)oet  Lowell, — 

''nia\'  1)0  Ljivcii   ill  many  wa\"s. 
And  lo_\alty  U>  irmh   be  scaled 
As  l)ra\flv   in  llic  ckisct  as  the  fifld," 

That  Jay  had  the  true  heroic  spirit  is  shown  by  an  e[)isode  of  his  life  in  colleq-e. 
A  number  of  his  fellow-students,  in  some  rouj^h  play  in  the  college  hall,  which 
he  saw  but  had  no  part  in,  broke  a  table.  The  noise  reached  the  ears  of  the 
president,  who  suddenly  appeared,  but  not  in  time  to  discover  them  in  the  act. 
All  tho^e  present,  except  Jay  and  one  other  student,  tlatly  denied  that  they  broke 
the  table,  or  knew  who  did.  Jay  and  his  comradi-  admitted  that  they  knew  who 
did  it,  but  refused  to  tell   their  names,  Jay  maintaining  that  there  was  nothing 

93 


94  JO  I IX  JAY. 

in  the  laws  of  the  coUci^c  rcriniriti!^  him  to  play  the;  part  of  an  informer.  This 
manly  conduct,  ho\vevc;r,  was  cIcciikhI  l)y  llu;  authorities  a  grave  otiense,  and 
Jay  and  his  companion  were;  suspended. 

L'poii  his  i^rackiation  from  collei^e  Jay  entered  on  the  study  of  the  law,  and 
was  admitted  to  the  New  ^'ork  bar  in  176S.  lie  is  saiil  to  have  "combined  in 
a  remarkable  tU^ij^ree  the  dii^niity  and  L,^ravity  of  manhood  with  the  ardor  of 
youth."  lie  soon  acquired  a  Vw^v.  practice,  and  j^^reat  intluenci;  in  political 
affairs.  As  a  member  <^)f  the  Continental  Cont^^ress,  in  1774,  he  drew  up  the 
famous  Addrt^ss  to  the  I'eoph;  of  C.reat  llritain,  which  at  once  <;ave  him  the 
reputation  of  btniij;-  one  of  the  ablest  antl  most  elo([uent  writers  in  Am«;rica. 
"Are  not  th(;  proprietors  of  the  soil  of  (irijat  Britain, "  he  says,  "lords  of  their 
own  property  ?  Can  it  be  taken  from  them  without  their  own  consent  ?  .  .  . 
Why,  then,  arc;  the  proprietors  of  the  soil  of  America  less  lords  of  their  prop- 
erty than  you  an:  of  yours?  or  why  should  they  submit  it  to  the  disposal  of 
yoiu"  I'arliame'Ut,  or  any  other  parlianu;nt  or  council  in  the  world  not  of  their 
own  election  ?  .  .  .  .Such  declarations  we  consicU.T  as  heresies  in  Mn^lish  poli- 
tics, and  can  no  more  operate  to  deprive  us  of  our  projx-rty  than  the  intenlicts 
o{  the  I'ope  can  divest  kini^s  of  scepters  which  the  laws  of  the  land  aiul  the 
voice  ot   the  peojilc  ha\(;  placed  in  their  hands." 

Referrinij;'  to  lh<;  .ability  and  char.ictt'r  of  the  men  who  formed  the  famous 
Continental  Congress,  Lord  Chatham  said:  "When  yoiu'  lordships  look  at  the 
papers  transmitted  to  us  from  America,  when  \-ou  consider  their  (k'cency,  firm- 
ness, and  wisdom,  nou  cinnot  but  res])crt  their  cause,  and  wish  to  make  it  your 
own.  l'"or  myself  1  must  declare  and  axow  that,  .  .  ,  for  solidity  of  reasonini^. 
force  of  saLi^acity,  and  wisdom  of  conclusion,  .  .  .  no  nation  or  body  of  men 
can  stand  in  preference  to  tii(>  Ceneral  Coni^^ress  at  Philadelphia." 

JAN's     IklAlS    IN    SPAIN. 

In  177S  Jay  was  chosen  I'rt-sident  of  Coni^ress,  antl  fulfilled  the?  difficult 
duties  of  that  station  for  nearly  two  jcars,  when  \\v  was  sent  as  minister  to 
Spain  to  n<tL;()tiate  for  a  loan  of  55,000,000,  and  for  the  free  navigation  of  the 
IVlississi[)pi.  "While  I  am  sensible,"  wrote  another  delet^ate  to  Jay,  "  of  the 
advant.'im's  we  shall  rea])  from  your  eminent  servictis  there,  I  have  my  ft.'ars 
th.it  they  will  be  missed  importantly  where  you  now  are."  The  trials  and 
vexations  of  his  new  ])osilion  were  very  ^'reat.  "The  .Sj)aniards  will  not  easily 
_i,nve  their  dollars,"  truly  wrote  Lafayette  to  Washington  ;  and,  far  from  L,Mving 
up  to  .\merica  the  naviL^ation  of  the  Mississippi,  they  wished  to  obtain  sole  con- 
trol of  it  themselves.  "Poor  as  we  are,"  wrote  I'Vanklin  to  lay,  "as  I  know 
we  shall  be  rich,  I  woukl  rather  aq;ree  with  them  to  buy,  at  a  L,^reat  pric«>,  the 
whol(!  of  their  ri^ht  on  the  Mississippi  than  to  sell  a  drop  of  its  waters.  A 
neiL,d"ibor  mio-ht  as  well  ask  me  to  sell  my  street  door." 


TRHAIY  Of  PEACE  WITH  ESGI.ASD. 


95 


Jay  wasttttl  many  iiiDiiths  of  fruillcss  ami  xcxatioii-;  la'nor  in  Spain.  Con- 
jrress  in  the  iiK'antinK;  not  only  lailini^  to  provide  him  with  an\-  mcins  ot  sup 
port,  but  cxpt^ctin^;'  hiin  to  Ix'l;  or  borrow  from  Spain  lumih'cds  ol  ihousaiuls  of 
dollars  to  |)ay  bills  of  »^.\chan_L,^e  which  they  drew  upon  him.  Winn  in  thi- 
^^reatcst  i^xtri'inity,  branklin,  whose;  intluc;nt(;  at  the  l-'rcnch  court  was  very 
(Treat,  sent  Jay  ^25,000  to  aid  in  meeting;  these  bills.  "  If  you  find  any  inclina- 
tion to  buy:  me  for  the  irood  news  of  this  letter."  wrote   I'ranklin.  "I  constitute 


n.VNKS    OK   TIIK   MISSISSII'I'I    TODAY,    I'oK    \VII"-r    IRl.K    NAVI' ;.\  IliiN    JAY    M  i  ;o  ri  \  I  I'D. 


and  appoint  Mrs.  Jay  my  attorney,  to  rcc(;i\e  in  my  behalf  your  embraces." 
Soon  afterward  Jay  left  Spain,  and  took  a  most  important  part  in  ni'i^^otiatinL;  a 
treaty  of  peace  with  b'n^land,  at  Paris,  in  17S;. — a  treaty  so  advantajj^eous  to 
America  that  the  b'rench  Prime  Minister  remarked  that  "  MnL^land  had  bouj^hta 
peace,  rather  than  mad(.'  one."  On  his  return  to  Amc-rica  Jay  was  made  .Secre- 
tary of  .State  for  b'oreii^rn  Affairs,  and  filled  that  oflice  until  fjSc). 

In  1787  met  that  renowned  body  of  statesmen,  the  Constitutional  Conven 


./j  JO  I  fX  JAY. 

tion  of  17S7,  which,  "in  ordir  to  t'onn  a  more  p(,'rf(>ct  union,"  (h-aftcd  the  pres- 
ent (.DnsliiulKin  ol  ihi;  Lnitid  Slates.  In  the  laljors  of  this  convention 
[)roli.il)ly  11(1  mcniliir  liorr  a  more:  imiiortant  p.irt  tlian  jay.  W  hen  the  work 
of  the  coii\<nti(in  was  at  hist  comphu,-,  and  suhniitlcd  to  the  people,  there  was 
vioh'nt  oiJi'osiiion  ic  it,  (.spc.  iaily  in  jay's  own  .State — New  \'ork.  In  this  state 
of  the  pulihc  miml  th.'.t  trio  ( if  j^reat  men,  Madison,  jay,  and  I  lamilton,  undert'.jok 
to  expl.iin  and  xinchcte  the  proposed  instrument  in  ///<•  /'lu/ci-d/i.s/,  a  series  ot 
articles,  orii^inalU'  pii'ilished  in  the  .\\:w  N'oik  papers.  "No  constitution,'' 
sa\s  ("hancellor  K'eii*,  "e\er  rec(;ived  a  mort;  masterly  and  successful  vindica- 
tion." 1  he  opposition  toils  .ido|)tion  was  linally  removed  ;  it  was  ratilie(l  by 
the  States,  and  went  inlo  elfect  uiih  the  elettion  of  W  ashiiii^lon  as  first  {'resi- 
dent, in  I  7S(,. 

W.ishin-lon  manifested  his  o|)inion  of  jay's  cliaracler  and  abilities  by 
ei\in^  him  a  choice  of  the  otl'ices  under  the  iu:w  u;o\  trnmeni.  1  le  pr(  ierred  the 
chief  justiceship,  as  biin^;'  most  suited  to  his  turn  of  mind  and  his  trainlii!^".  In 
an  aiKlr<'ss  at  one  of  the  first  sessions  he  said  :  "  Nothing  but  a  stronj^'  eovern- 
ment  of  laws,  irresistiblv  bearinL,^  down  arbilr.iry  power  and  licentiousness,  can 
ilefeiid  it  a^iaiiist  those  two  formidable;  enemies.  Let  it  be  remembered  that 
civil  libertv  consists,  not  in  a  riL^ht  to  every  man  to  do  just  as  he  pleases,  but  in 
an  c'pi.d  ri'^hi  to  all  clli/ens  to  have,  enjov,  and  do,  in  |ieace,  security,  .uid  with- 
out molest, ition.  whal<!\ir  the  ecpial  and  constitutional  laws  of  the  country 
admit  to  be  consistent  with  the  jiublic  ^ood." 

sikoNc  i..\N(a:A(;i:  .M'.olt  si,.\vi:i<.y. 

Of  all  the  statesmen  of  tlu;  Revolution,  jay  was  one  of  the  most  pro- 
nounced and  uncomproinisiiii:^''  oi)[)onents  of  slavery.  The  inconsistency  of 
dem.mdinL;  freedom  for  ourselves.  whiU;  holdiiiL,''  others  in  bondaec,  was  one 
which  his  stronL,^  loi^ical  mind  couUl  not  tolerate,  and  which  he  diil  not  attempt 
to  reconcile.  In  17S0,  writini.;-  from  .Spain  to  a  friend  in  America,  he  says:  "An 
excellent  law  mi^ht  Ix;  maile  out  of  the  Pennsylvania  one  for  thi;  t^fadn.il  abo- 
lition of  slavery.  Till  America  comes  into  this  measure,  iu'r  i)rayi'rs  to  I  leaven 
for  libertv  will  be  impious.  ...  I  believe  God  iroverns  tin:  world,  and  I 
believe  it  to  bi;  a  maxim  in  his,  as  in  our  court,  that  those  who  ask  for  e(piity, 
oui.^lu  to  do  it."  A^ain  he  says  :  "  It  is  much  to  be  wished  that  slavery  may  be 
abolislii'd.  .  .  .  To  contend  for  our  own  liljerty,  and  to  deny  that  blessint;  to 
others,  involves  an  inconsistency  not  to  be  excused." 

jay  conliiuied  on  the  bench  of  the  .Supri'ine;  Court  until  1794,  when  his 
services  were  r<'(piired  as  special  minister  to  I'.iiL^land,  to  adjust  the  ditferences 
between  the  two  countries,  which  were  so  e^reat  as  to  threaten  war.  His  abili- 
ties as  a  diph^matist  were  shown  by  the  treaty  which  he  neL,^otiated,  under  which 
England  paid  over  ten  millions  of  dollars  for  illegal  captures  of  American  pro- 


(101 1: RX OR  oi-m:iv  )0RR. 


07 


perty  in  the  war  for  indcpciidciuc,  antl  of  whicli  I.onI  Sh(!tTu'liI  afli-rw.'.nl  sait) 
at  the  lircakinu;  nut  ot"  the  war  of  iSi:;,  ••  Wf  ha\c  now  an  opportunity  of 
.'^ettin;^' rill  of  that  nio>~t  impoliiic  ircaiy  of  \jn\.  when  l.onl  (.  Ircin  illc  was  so 


>r.    IVll.  S,    NKW    VOKK.    AN    ii||i    rlUKill    •  >)■     \.\\>    lIMl:. 


perfectly  ihiped  by  jay."  While  Jay  was  yet  in  FjiL^land  he  was  elected 
Ciovcrnor  of"  New  York,  and  was  twice  re clt'cted.  I  le,  howtne'r,  ileclined 
serving;  a  third  term  ;  ami  also  declined  a  secoiul  term  as  chief  justice,  to  which 


98 


JOHN  JAY. 


he  had  been  nominated  and  contirmt'tl  in  iSoi.  At  the  end  of  his  second 
term  as  (Governor  of  \e\v  N'ork  he  retired  from  public  hfe,  and  spent  the 
remainder  of  his  days  on  his  estate  in  Westchester  county,  New  York,  where 
he  died  in  1829. 

The  character  of  Jay  is  clearly  shown  forth  in  the  reconl  of  his  life.  \\\ 
devotion  to  his  country,  in  clear  jiid_i,nnent.  in  spotless  inte_!L,M'ity,  he  is  not  sur 
|)assed  even  amontf  the  j^reat  men  of  his  own  time.  Me  was  modest,  cinimed 
no  merit,  and  seldom  alluded  to  the  j^-^reat  events  in  which  he  took  part.  He 
was  Lfenerous  and  charitable',  while  at  the  same  time  e.\act  and  careful.  It  has 
been  beautifully  said  of  him  that  "  He  lives  in  our  memoiies  a  llawless  statue, 
whose  noble  lineaments  have  everything  to  gain  from  the  clear  light  of  history." 


AN    KIGIIIEENTII    CENTURY    HKEri.ACK. 


ALEXANDER  HAMILTON, 

THE    ARCHITECT    OK    THE    FEUEKAL    SYSTEM. 


'MOXG  all  the  monuments  in  the  great  Cathedral  of  St 
Paul's,  ill  London,  the  proudest  is  a  simple;  tablet  to 
the  memory  of  Sir  Cliristophi-r  W'rtMi,  the  architect  of 
that  splendid  pile.  "  Reader,"  it  says,  ••  if  thou  set.-kest 
/lis  monument,  look  around  thee."  TurniuLj  from  struc- 
tures of  brick  antl  stone  to  an  edifice  of  a  nobler  kind, 
we  of  .America  have  but  to  look  around  us  to  se(;  in  the 
miL;hty  fabric  of  our  national  government  the  monument 
of  Ai.i;\.\M)1;r  IIamii.ion. 

In  the  summer  of  1772  that  beautiful  ^rou|)  of  the  West 
bidies  known  as  the  Leeward  Islanils  were  desolated  by  a  hurri- 
cane. While  its  eftects  were  still  visible,  antl  men  were  looking  fear- 
fully into  the  skies,  an  account  of  the  calamity  appeared  in  the  ^SV. 
Christopher  s  (iazci/c,  written  with  such  singular  ability  that  there  was  great 
curiosity  to  discoviM-  its  author.  It  was  tracetl  to  a  youth  employed  in  a  .St. 
Croi.\  counting-house,  a  boy  of  only  fifteen,  named  Ale.xaiuler  Hamilton.  lie 
was  born  in  the  tiny  island  of  Xevis.  His  father  was  a  Scotch  gentleman,  and 
his  mother  was  of  the  good  1  luguenot  stock  of  i'rance.  It  was  a  ha[)py  day  for 
our  young  author  ;  a  lad  who  could  write  in  this  way,  it  was  thought,  should  not 
spend  his  life  in  casting  up  accounts.  It  was  at  once  determined  to  send  him 
to  New  York  to  complete  his  education  ;  and  in  the  month  of  October,  in  that 
year,  he  landed  in  Boston. 

Francis  Barber,  afterward  a  colonel,  and  a  brave  man  in  several  battles,  was 
at  this   time  principal  of  a  grammar-school  of  good  repute  in   Klizabethtown, 
New  Jersey ;  and  hither  came  the   young   West   Indian    to    be  prepared    for 
college, — a  handsome  youth,  erect,  graceful,  eagle-eyed,  and  "  wise  in  conversa- ' 
tion  as  a  man." 

Before  the  end  of  i  773  he  had  finished  his  preliminary  studies,  and  proceeded 
to  Princeton,  to  incpiire  of  Dr.  Witherspoon  if  he  could  enter  the  college  with 
the  privilege  of  passing  from  class  to  class  as  fast  as  he  advanced  in  scholarship. 
The  president  was  sorry,  but  the  laws  of  the  institution  would  not  permit.     \  Iam« 

101 


lOJ  ALi:XAXI)/  l<  JIAMILTON. 

ilton  was  morc!  successful  in  New  NOik.  In  Kin_y;'s  CoHcl^c  (now  C'oliiinhia  Uni 
vcrsity)  li<'  niiijlu  sue  lor  ;i  dc^rci;  w  licncvcr  In;  could  show  the  tith;  ot  suttki»:nt 
learn i n L^  ;  and  so  li.unilton  lixcil  upon  llu:  Xrw  N'ork  insiitution.  Sonn;  ^rcat 
men  ot  the  liiiurc  were  then  in  Kint^'s  C'oIIcljc,  liui  there  was  only  one  Alexander 
1  laniilton  ihcrc  In  the  dch-itin^;  thil*  he  controlled  excrylhin;;  by  his  acute 
ness  and  ehxiuence,  ills  room-mate  was  aw('d,  ni^lu  and  morninL,^  l>y  the 
fervid  ])assion  of  his  prayers,  anil  has  leslifu-d  that  I  lamillon's  firm  faith  in 
Christianity,  and  his  mighty  and  convincing;'  arL^uments,  did  much  to  coniuMn  his 
own  wavering  faith.  1  lamilloii  was  a  \crsatile  genius;  hi;  wrote  hymns  and 
hurlesijues  ;  he  was  pious  and  pumtilious  ;  amhilious  and  gay. 

Till:  siikKiNc,   n\vs  oi    ';;,. 

W'hih'  Hamilton  was  at  his  studies  in  King's  (/ollege,  groat  events  were 
taking  place  outside.  The  ipiarrel  with  (ireat  liritain  was  becoming  irrecon 
cilalile.  In  December,  177;,,  occurred  the  "  Boston  Tea  Party,"  when  a  band 
ol  patriots,  disguised  as  Indians,  boarded  the;  British  \essels  laden  with  tea,  aiul 
emptied  ib.eu'  contents  in  the  harbor.  The  excite-ment  throughout  the  country, 
already  greai,  increased  in  intensity  ;  the  methods  of  resistance  to  be  adopted 
were  on  ev(r\- man's  tongue.  In  .SeptemlxM',  1774,  the  first  Continental  Con- 
gress met  in  I'hihulelphia.  Nothing  was  thought  of  but  resistance  to  the 
tyranny  of  baitdand. 

In  college  Hamilton  never  relaxed  the  severe  application  which  his  ambition 
and  his  tables  made  natural  ;  but  he  was  not  unmindful  of  the  storm  gathering 
beyond  his  quiet  cloisters.  1  lis  mind,  his  pen,  and  his  voice  were  from  the  first 
employed  in  defending  colonial  opposition  to  the  acts  of  the  British  Parliament. 
I  le  organi/ed  a  military  corps,  mostly  of  fellow-studeiits,  who  practiced  their 
daily  drill  e.u'ly  in  the  morning,  before  the  commencement  of  their  college 
duties.  They  assumed  the  name;  of  "  Hearts  of  (  )ak,"  and  wore  a  green 
unitorm,  surmouiUed  b\'  a  leather  cap,  on  which  was  inscribed  "  breedom  or 
1  )eath  I"  I'.arly  and  late  he  was  busv,  not  onl\-  in  promoting  measures  of 
resistance,  but  in  mastering  the  science  of  ])olilical  economy,  the  laws  of  com- 
merce, the  l)alance  of  trade,  and  the  circulating  medium  ;  so  that  when  these 
to|)ics  bee;, UK;  prominent,  no  one  was  Ix'tter  ecpiipped  for  dealing  with  them 
than  Hamilton. 

Hamilton's  Hrst  political  sjieech  to  a  popular  assembly  was  delivered  at 
"  the  great  meeting  in  the  fields,"  as  it  was  long  afterward  called,  called  to 
choose  tlelegates  to  the  first  Continental  Congress.  I  le  was  still  a  student,  and 
e.xceedingly  juvenile  in  appearance.  Being  unexpectedly  called  upon,  he  at 
first  faltered  and  hesitated  ;  but  soon  he  recovered  himself  and  the  immense 
multitude  were  astonished  and  electrit'ied  by  the  "  infant  orator,"  as  they  called 
him.     .\fler  a  discussion,  clear,  forcible,  and    striking,  of  the  great    principles 


If  IS  r/KST  SriiECH. 


103 


1-».l<*t  .itfCL  ii^^-. 


invoKcd,  lie  depicted  ill  ^lowiiiLj  colors  the  a^i^ravated  op|)ressi(»ns  of  the 
Miother-coiintry.  rouchiiiL;  this  point  he  burst  torlli  in  a  strain  of  liold  and 
thrillinj;  elocpienci- : — 

"  The  sacri:d  ri^^lus  of 
mankind,"  he  declared,  "are 
not  to  he  rinninau'ed  lor 
ainon^'  old  parchments  or 
musty  rc:cords  ;  they  are 
written  as  with  a  sunln;ain 
in  the  whoU;  volume  of 
liuman  nature,  by  tlu;  hand 
of  1  )i\  inity  itself,  and  can 
nt;\er  be  erased  or  obscured 
by  mortal  power." 

I  le  insistet!  on  thi?  duty 
of  resistance,  pointetl  out 
the  means  antl  cc-rtainty  of 
success,  and  ilescribed  "the 
waves  of  rebellion,  sjjark- 
lini^-  with  tire,  and  washinijf 
back  on  the  shores  of  I'^ny;- 
lanil  the  wrecks  of  her 
power,  her  wealth,  ami  her 
_<;lory."  Under  this  sponta- 
neous burst  of  mature  elo- 
([uence  from  li[)s  so  vouth- 
ful.  the  vast  multitude  lirst 
listened  in  awe  and  surprise, 
and  then  rose  with  irre|)res- 
sible  astonishment.  The 
death  like  silence;  ceased  as 
he  closed,  and  repeated 
cheers  resounded  to  the 
heavens.  Then  the  whis|)er, 
"  .\  colleij^ian — it  is  a  colle- 
i,nan  !"  passed  in  surprise 
from  one  to  another  throufrh 
the  crowd. 

In  March.  1776,  Ham- 
ilton left  college,  and.  joinino;-  a  band  of  volunteers,  obtained  the  command  of  a 
company  of   artillery.     One    day,   while    \\'ashinj,;ton    was    jjreparino-    for   the 


104  AI.EX.IXDLK  llAMlLTOf. 

lU'fcMsc  of  N'cw  \wV.  CiciK  r.il  Grcciit!.  on  his  way  to  hf'a(l<|iiartfrs,  had  his 
attttiuion  atlr.utcfl  to  1  lainilton's  com|)aiiy,  which  was  drilhny  in  a  injii^hlioriiii^ 
field.  Tile  (,i|)i,iin  seemed  a  men-  i)oy.  small  and  slight,  but  fjiiick  in  his  inovc- 
nicnts,  and  with  an  air  of  nMnarl<alil<'  inteiiii^cnctr  ;  and  his  coni|i.iny  was  Ii.indled 
witli  an  case  and  skill  which  roused  (iriHin-'s  ailniiration.  lli;  stoppt.-d  to  talk 
with  hiiVi.  and  was  soon  convinced,  iVnin  1 1.iniilton's  conversation,  that  In;  hail 
met  a  youth  of  no  common  abilities.  lie  spoke  of  1  lamilton  to  Cieneral  Wash- 
ington at  the  time,  expressing;"  his  ojiinion  of  his  character. 

;\t  thi;  i)ass,.L;e  of  ilu;  K.uMt.ui,  in  tht;  menior.dile  retn-at  throuL^h  New 
Jersey,  W'ashini^ton  obsersed  with  admiration  the  coura.iL^o  and  skill  of  the  Nouth- 
ful  artillery  olt'icer,  and  ortlereil  his  aide-ile-camp,  l'itZL,M'raKl,  to  ascertain  who  he 
was,  and  to  briuL;"  him  to  he;id([uarters  at  the  first  halt  of  the  army.  In  the 
evenini^''  1  I.uniltDn  was  appointed  W'.ishinL^aoii's  aiile-ile-camp,  with  the  rank  of 
colonel.  JM'om  this  tinu;  he  (oiuinued  until  bebruary.  17S1,  the  inseparabh,' 
companion  ot  iIk;  comni.inder  in  chief  ami  was  abvavs  consulted  by  him,  anil 
by  all  th(.'  le.ulin^  function. n'ies,  on  the  most  import. uit  occ.isions.  lb;  act<'il  as 
his  tu'st  aiil  at  the  battles  of  I)r.uid\u  inc.  ( ierm.uitown,  and  Monmouth.  At 
the  sie^e  of  Vorktown  he  led  the  det.ichment  which  carrietl  by  assault  one  of 
the  strongest  outworks  of  the  foe;  and  \\'ashinL;ton,  in  ri^cftL^iiition  of  his 
L,''allaniry,  ordered  that  1  l.imilton  should  receive  the  surrentler  of  one  of  the 
divisions  of  L'ornwallis's  armv. 

It  would  be  difficult  to  overestimate  the  value  of  Mamiltons  servici-s  liurinj^ 
the  Ioiil;-  period  h(i  acted  .is  \\'ashini.^ton's  fu'st  aid  ami  confid(Mitial  secretary. 
The  principal  portions  of  ilu;  voluminous  corresj)ond<.'nc(.'  fell  on  him,  and  the 
most  elaborate  communications  are  understood  to  hav(;  been  made  essentially 
by  his  assistance.  "The  pen  of  our  countrw"  says  Troup,  "was  held  by 
I  lamilton  ;  and  for  dij.,Miity  of  manner,  pith  of  matter,  and  ele;_;ance  of  style, 
General  Washinjj^ton's  letters  are  unri\aled  in  ni'litary  annals." 

.'\t  the  time  of  .Xrnold's  treason,  I  lamilton  s  position  led  him  into  acipiaint 
ance  with  the  ill-f.ited  .\ndre,  for  whom  he  felt  a  strong;-  admiration,  lie  urL^ed 
the  wisdom  and  pood  i)olicv  of  spariiii/  Andre's  life,  ar  ''uin''',  with  ijreat  force, 
that  it  would  compel  a  cessation  of  British  cruelties  to  American  [)risoners  ; 
but  unfortunately  he  was  overborne,  antl  Andre  was  e.xecuted. 

Ibimilton's  military  achi(.'vements  are  such  as  to  warrant  the  belief  that  he 
would  have  made  a  L^reat  soldier;  but  his  tastes  antl  abilities  alike;  tended 
toward  the  work  of  the  statesman,  and,  fortunatc-ly  for  the  country,  k;d  him 
in  that  direction.  The  embarrassments  of  the  Treasury  and  consequent  suf- 
ferinjj;^s  of  the  army  prompted  him  to  take  up  the  study  of  tinanc<;,  anil  in  1779. 
in  private  and  anonymous  communications  to  Robert  Morris,  he  proposed  a 
great  financial  scheme  for  the  counfy,  in  which,  risimjf  above  all  the  crude 
systems  of  that  age,  and  pointing  to  a  combination  of  public  with  private  credit 


Ills  Il.\.\.\(  lAl.  Al:/!  ITII  S. 


105 


as  the  basis  of  his  |)I.m,  ln'  1«<1  tin    \\a\-  tn  tln'  fstalilishiin m  n|   tlir  inst  Aiiiiri- 

fiiii   liiink.      Alioul  .1   Near  lalir   \v 

adilrt's^i  <1  a  Kiiir  tn  Mr.  I  >u.iin'.  .1  ^    \ 

incinlici- ( (I  ihc  L  oiii^rc-,-,  Iniin  \f\v  .  ■  .^-Jiill^'.  ';','■  ■.^''^j;''^*'' 

\(irk,  oil    the    siatr  ot    liu    nation. 

•    1  Iiis  U'tlcr  apixars  ai  iliis(la\.' 

sriys     one, 

"with    all 


m  KMM,    M  \\     I.'iMk'N,  1  mNM  ,    11'  r  I.  I 


the    lii^hts    and     trnit^    of    our 

f.\|)cri(  lu'c,    as    ni.istcrh-    in    a 

preeminent  dej^ree.      II<'    went    on   to  show    the  defi.-cts   and   total   inettuiencv 

of  th(.'   Articles  of  Confe'deralion.   and   to   |)ro\-e    that  we  stood   in    need   of  a 

national   government   with    tli';    re(|iiisite  so\-erei^n   powi-rs  ;    such,   intleed,  as 

7 


io6  ALEXANDER  HAMILTON. 

the  confederation  theoretically  containetl,  but  without  any  fit  orc^ans  to  receive 
them.  1  le  su^rgcsted  the  idea  of  a  national  convention  to  amend  and  reorganize 
the  government.  This  was  undoubtedly  the  ablest  and  truest  production  on  the 
state  of  the  Union,  its  finances,  its  army,  its  miseries,  its  resources,  and  its 
remedies,  that  appeared  during  the  Revolution.  It  contained  in  embryo  the 
existing  I'^ederal  Constitution,  and  it  was  the  production  of  a  young  man  of  the 
age  of  twenty-three." 

In  December,  1780,  he  was  married  to  Iilizabeth,  a  daughter  of  General 
Philip  Schuyler,  and  on  the  first  of  March,  17S1,  he  retired  from  the  military 
family  of  Washington,  resignincf  his  pay,  and  retaining  his  commission  only  that 
he  nvght  have  the  power,  should  there  be  occasion,  still  to  serve  his  country  in 
the  field. 

THK    GRKAT   WORK   OF    TIAMILTON's    LTFE. 

At  the  close  of  the  war  with  England  the  government  was  so  weak  that  it 
had  sunk  into  contempt.  The  mutiny  of  some  eighty  soldiers  at  Philadelphia 
actuaily  obliged  Congress  to  adjourn  to  Princeton.  It  afterward  removed  to 
Annapolis  ;  ami,  as  the  States  could  not  agree  on  a  seat  of  government,  it 
seemed  likely  to  become  a  migratory  body,  with  constantly  diminishing  numbers 
and  intluence.  It  had  so  dwindled  away,  that  when  the  Treaty  of  Peace  was 
finally  to  be  ratified,  weeks  elapsed  before  the  attendance  of  the  required  num- 
ber of  nine  States  could  be  procured,  and,  even  then,  only  twenty-three  members 
were  present  at  the  ratification.  Manifestly  the  construction  of  a  strong  and 
stable  government  was  essential ;  and  after  much  delay  antl  many  disputes,  the 
famoas  Convention  of  17S7,  to  form  the  Constitution,  met  in  Philadelphia. 

Since  the  meeting  of  that  renowned  first  Congress,  which  led  the  way  in  the 
struggle  for  independence,  America  had  seen  no  such  body  of  men  as  now 
assembled.  Thither  came  George  Washington,  from  his  retirement  at  Mount 
Vernon,  w-here  he  had  hoped  "to  glide  gently  down  a  stream  which  no  human  effort 
can  ascend,"  called  to  engage  once  more  in  the  service  of  his  country.  From 
Virginia  also  came  James  Madison,  afterward  President,  but  then  a  young  and 
rising  politician.  PVom  Massachusetts  came  Rufus  King,  jurist  and  statesman  ; 
from  South  Carolina,  Charles  Cotesworth  Pinckncy,  soldier,  scholar,  and  lawyer. 
Pennsylvania  was  peculiarly  fortunate  in  her  representatives.  At  their  head  was 
Benjamin  P^-anklin,  now  in  his  eighty-second  year,  the  oldest  and  most  widely 
known  of  American  public  men,  and  in  some  sort  combining  in  his  own  person 
many  of  the  leading  characteristics  of  America.  His  venerable  age,  his  long 
services,  his  serene  and  benignant  aspect,  commanded  the  respect  of  all,  and 
imposed  a  controlling  power  on  the  assembly.  With  him  came  Gouverneur  Mor- 
ris, one  of  the  best  and  wisest  of  American  patriots  ;  and  Robert  Morris,  who 
had  made  the  first  attempts  at  dealing'  with  the  complicated  difficulties  of  Ameri- 
can finance.     There  were  other  men  of  note  in  the  Convention,  such  as  Roofer 


THE  COXSTITUTIONAL  COXVEXTION.  107 

Sherman  of  Connecticut,  John  Jay  of  New  York,  John  Dickinson  of  Deiaware, 
Luther  Martin  of  Marykind,  and  George  Mason  of  Virginia, — fifty-five  members 
in  all,  representing  twelve  sovereign  States, — for  Rhode  Island  made  no  appoint- 
ment, liut  the  whole  edifice  would  have  wanted  its  crowning  glory  if  New  York 
had  not  sent  Hamilton,  with  the  treasures  of  his  genius  and  elocjuence.  All 
could  be  better  spared  than  he,  who  had  first  conceived  the  plan  of  a  reform  in 
the  Constitution,  and  who  alone  could  carry  it  to  a  successful  issue.  And  this 
man,  foremost  in  an  assembly  of  the  most  able  representatives  of  the  States, 
and  who  had  already  achieved  so  much  in  the  field  and  the  council,  was  yet  only 
thirty  years  of  age. 

Washington  was  unanimously  called  to  the  chair.  Into  particulars  of 
the  discussions  it  is  not  Intended  to  enter  here,  but  the  part  which  Hamilton 
took  in  them  was  of  an  importance  impossible  to  rate  too  highly.  He  stood  In 
the  midst  of  the  jarring  elements  like  a  beneficent  genius,  ready  to  evoke  ortler 
out  of  chaos  ;  and  the  proportion  in  which  his  views  were  adopted  or  rejected 
may  be  almost  regarded  as  the  measure  of  the  strength  and  the  weakness  of 
the  Constitution. 

The  document  which  embodied  the  scheme  of  the  present  Constitution  was 
signed  by  a  majority  of  the  delegates,  and  by  one  or  more  representatives  of 
each  of  the  twelve  States  present  in  the  Convention.  The  first  name  on  the  list 
is  that  of  George  Washington,  who  is  said  to  have  paused  a  moment,  with  the 
pen  In  his  hand,  as  he  pronounced  these  words:  "Should  the  States  reject  this 
excellent  Constitution,  the  probability  Is  that  an  opportunity  will  never  again 
offer  to  cancel  another  in  peace.  The  next  will  be  drawn  In  blood."  And  in 
the  speech  which  Franklin  delivered  In  the  assembly,  he  thus  expressed  him- 
self: "  I  consent,  sir,  to  this  Constitution,  because  I  expect  no  better,  and  because 
I  am  not  sure  that  this  Is  not  the  best.  The  opinions  I  have  had  of  Its  errors  I 
sacrifice  to  the  public  good.  I  hope,  therefore,  for  our  own  sakes,  as  a  part  of 
the  people,  and  for  the  sake  of  posterity,  we  shall  act  heartily  and  unanimously 
in  recommending  this  Constitution  wherever  our  infiuence  may  extend,  and 
turn  our  future  thoughts  and  endeavors  to  the  means  of  having  it  well  adminis- 
tered." Then,  while  the  members  were  signing,  he  turned  toward  the  Image 
of  a  sun  painted  at  the  back  of  the  President's  chair,  and  said :  "  Often  and 
often,  in  the  course  of  the  session,  I  have  looked  at  it  without  being  able  to  tell 
whether  It  was  rising  or  setting;  but  now,  at  length,  I  have  the  happiness  to 
know  that  it  is  a  rising,  and  not  a  setting  sun." 

The  Convention  being  dissolved,  the  plan  of  the  Constitution  was  laid  before 
the  country,  and  at  once  excited  the  most  fervid  feelings  of  approbation  and 
dissent.  In  general  It  was  supported  by  moderate  men,  who  looked  with  appre- 
hension at  the  actual  state  of  affairs,  and  desired,  by  any  reasonable  compro- 
mise, to  establish  a  practicable  government     On  the  other  hand,  it  was  violendy 


I08 


ALI-WLYDER  I/AMIL T( hV. 


opposed  by  that  class  who  viewed  with  jealousy  the  rise  of  any  central  power, 
and  wiiose  tht^ory  of  free-doni  precluded  the  notion  of  authority.  Two  threat 
parties  joinetl  issue  on  the  ([uestion  of  its  acceptance  or  rejection.  They  took 
the  names  of  Fci/crii/ists  and  .  liiti-Fcdcralists.  A  few  years  later,  after  the 
Constitution  had  \)va\\\  adopted,  the  same  two  parties,  with  some  modifications, 
continued  to  divide  the  pi;ople  of  America,  but  they  were  then  called  Federal- 
ists antl  Rcfyiiblitaits. 

One  of  th(t  most  efficient  means  employed  in  makinsj;'  the  new  Constitution 
familiar  and  acceptable  to  th(!  people  was  tht;  publication  of  a  series  of  essayt, 

under  the  name  of  the  Feder- 
alist, which  Americans  still  re- 
jjl^ard  as  the  greatest  and  most 
complete  exposition  of  the  prin- 
ciples of  their  constitutional  law. 
It  was  the  work  of  Hamilton, 
Madison,  and  Jay  ;  but  of  the 
eij.jhty-five  essays  of  which  it  is 
comi)osed,  upward  of  fifty  were 
written  by  Hamilton,  "It  was 
from  him,"  says  Mr.  Curtis,  "that 
th(;  Federalist  Acrw^A  the  weii,dit 
and  the  po\v(T  which  commanded 
th(!  careful  attention  of  the  coun- 
try and  carried  conviction  to  the 
oreat  body  of  intellit^cnt  men  in 
all  parts  of  the  L'nion." 

All  tilt!  ability  displayed  in 
the;  luderalist,  and  all  the  exer- 
tions of  Hamilton  and  his  friends, 
were  required  to  secure  the  ac- 
ceptance of  the  Constitution. 
Hamilton  threw  his  whole  strength  into  the  contest,  and  left  no  honest  means 
untried  to  accom|)lish  the  end.  Durins^-  the  months  that  elapsed  between  the 
dissolution  of  the  Convention  and  the  ratification  of  the  Constitution,  his  vli/i- 
lance  never  slumbered,  and  his  exertions  were  not  relaxed  for  a  moment.  Many 
able  men  were  enL,'^aL,^ed  in  that  struL^gle,  but  none  rendered  such  service  as  he 
did  to  the  l*"(.'deralist  cause. 

'Hie  fu-st  .State  to  ratify  the  Constitution  was  little  Delaware,  on  the  7th  of 
December,  1787.  Pennsylvania,  influenced  by  the  name  of  Franklin,  was  the 
next  to  follow.  Then  came  New  Jersey,  Georiria.  and  Connecticut.  But  it  was 
felt  that  th(i  hardest  of  the  battle  must  be  fought  in  Virginia  ,ind  New  York.    In 


J/.Ml'-.S    MADISON,    HAMILTON'S   CIIIKF   AIll    IN    WRITINT. 
'■   I'lIK    l'Klli:KAI.l>.r." 


FIRST  SECRETAR ) '  OF  THE  TREASUR  V.  1 09 

Virginia  tlic  opposition  was  led  by  I'atrick  H('nry,  whcise  fiery  clot] uf net;  luul 
clone  so  inucii  in  (^\citing  his  countrymen  to  resistance  in  the  commencement 
of  the  striigoie  with  Cireat  Britain.  In  New  \'urk  the  wiic't!  interest  of  Gover- 
nor Clinton  and  his  friends,  and  many  local  and  personal  prejudici;s,  were  arrayed 
against  tlie  adoption  of  the  Constitution.  The  .State  convention  to  decide  the 
matter  was  held  at  Poughkeepsie,  and  the  whole  State  was  agitated  by  the 
discussion. 

"  HAMILTON'    is    Sl'I'.AKINc;  !  " 

On  the  24th  of  June  Hamilton  received  intelligence  that,  by  th(!  ratification 
of  New  Hampshire,  the  Constitution  had  been  adopted  by  nine  States,  the  num- 
ber re([uisite  for  its  establishment.  The  cpiestion  was  then  at  onc(;  raised  whi'ther 
New  York  was  to  remain  in  the  Confederacy,  or  to  stand  alone;  as  an  indepiMid- 
ent  power.  There  was  a  party  favoring  the  latter  alternative  ;  but  Hamilton  felt 
that  to  leave  out  New  York  would  be  to  abandon  tht;  heart  antl  centre  of  the 
Union,  and  resolved  to  combat  the  project  by  all  the  means  at  his  disposal. 
During  the  last  days  of  the  Convention,  the  streets  of  New  York  were  filled 
with  an  excited  crowd,  waiting  for  news  from  I'oughkeepsie,  ami,  as  each  mes- 
senger arrived,  it  was  repeatetl  from  mouth  to  mouth:  "  Hamilton  is  speaking! 
Hamilton  is  speaking  yet !"  as  though  the  destinies  of  the  country  hung  sus- 
pended on  his  words.  And  when  at  length  the  tidings  of  the  ratificaticMi  reached 
the  city,  the  bells  pealed  from  the  church  towers,  the  cannon  resoundetl  from  the 
forts,  and  a  loud  and  exulting  shout  proclaimed  that  the  popular  voice  had  sanc- 
tioned the  victory  of  the  Constitution. 

The  first  election  under  the  new  Constitution  was  held  in  the  autumn  of 
1788.  There  was  no  (piestion  as  to  who  should  be  the  first  l'resicU;nt.  Wash- 
ington was  elected  without  opj)osition,  and  on  April  30,  17S9,  took  iIk-  oath 
of  office  in  New  York.  In  choosing  his  Cabinet  he  at  once  offered  the  treasury 
to  Hamilton.  He  is  said  to  have  consulted  Robert  Morris,  the;  former  superin- 
tendent of  finance,  as  to  the  second  of  these  appointments,  asking,  with  a 
sigh  :  "What  is  to  be  done  with  this  heavy  debt?  "  "There  is  but  one  man  in 
the  United  States,"  answered  Morris,  "who  can  tell  you,  and  that  is  Alexander 
Hamilton." 

The  President,  who  well  remembered  the  invaluable  servic<'s  of  his  aidc;-de- 
camp,  could  fully  subscribe  to  this  llattering  estimate  of  his  talents.  He  had 
lately  been  in  frequent  communication  with  Hamilton,  and  had  consulted  him 
on  several  grave  and  delicate  questions.  He  had  always  cherished  a  pleasant 
recollection  of  their  intimacy,  ami  now  the  old  feelings  of  friendship  had  strongly 
revived  between  them.  In  his  elevated  position  Washington  needed  more  than 
ever  a  friend  he  could  entirely  trust.  On  every  grouiul,  therefore,  private  as 
well  as  public,  he  was  glad  to  offer  this  important  post  to  Hamilton  ;  and  the 
latter  did  not  hesitate  to  accept  it,  although  he  well  knew  its  difficulties. 


110  ALEXANDER  HAMILTON. 

I  lamilton  now  devoted  all  his  thoughts  to  the  national  finances,  and  wag 
busy  in  devising  schemes  to  meet  the  pressing  exigencies  of  the  time.  The 
office  required  tlie  vigorous  exercise  of  all  his  powers  ;  and  his  reports  of  plans 
for  the  restoration  of  public  credit,  on  the  protection  and  encouragement  of 
fmanufactures,  on  the  necessity  and  the  constitutionality  of  a  national  bank,  and 
on  the  establishment  of  a  mint,  would  alone  have  given  him  the  reputation  of 
being  one  of  the  most  consummate  statesmen  who  have  ever  lived.  The  plans 
which  he  proposed  were  adopted  by  Congress  almost  without  alteration. 
When  he  entered  upon  the  duties  of  his  office  the  government  had  neither 
credit  nor  money,  and  the  resources  of  the  country  were  unknown  ;  when  he 
retired,  at  the  end  of  five  years,  the  fiscal  condition  of  no  people  was  better  or 
more  clearly  understood.  Mr.  Gallatin  has  said  that  secretaries  of  the  treas- 
ury have  since  enjoyed  a  sinecure,  the  genius  and  labors  of  I  lamilton  having 
created  and  arranged  everything  that  was  necessary  for  the  perfect  and  easy 
discharge  of  their  duties. 

"He  smote  the  rock  of  the  national  resources,"  says  Daniel  Webster, 
"and  abundant  streams  of  revenue  gushed  forth.  He  touched  the  dead  corpse 
of  the  Public  Credit,  and  it  sprang  upon  its  feet.  The  fabled  birth  of  Minerva 
from  the  brain  of  Jove  was  hardly  more  sudden  or  more  perfect  than  the  finan- 
cial system  of  the  United  States,  as  it  burst  forth  from  the  brain  of  Alexander 
Hamilton." 

When,  after  yt^ars  of  immense  labor,  the  financial  system  of  the  govern- 
ment was  established,  Hamilton  resolved  to  retire  from  office.  Doubtless  he 
was  weary  of  constant  struggle  ;  for  the  politics  of  the  time  were  charged  with 
such  bitterness  that  even  W'ashington  did  not  escape  the  most  venomous  abuse. 
Hamilton's  enemies  made  ceaseless  attacks  upon  him  ;  but  there  were  other 
reasons  which  made  him  wish  to  retire,  and  which,  if  anything  could  have  done 
so,  might  have  called  a  blush  to  the  cheeks  of  his  persecutors.  This  man,  who 
had  held  the  revenues  of  an  empire  at  his  disposal,  and  whom  his  adversaries 
had  not  scrupled  to  charge  with  enriching  himself  at  the  public  expense,  was  in 
reality  very  poor.  His  official  salary  did  not  suffice  for  the  wants  of  his  family, 
and  his  official  duties  had  obliged  him  to  abandon  his  practice  at  the  bar.  He 
was  anxious,  before  it  was  too  late,  to  repair  his  fortunes,  and  provide  for  his 
wife  and  children. 

Hamilton  now  set  to  work  at  his  profession,  and  was  once  more  the  leading 
spirit  of  the  bar.  Talleyrand,  passing  his  office  long  after  midnight,  saw  him 
still  there  at  his  desk.  "I  have  be'ht^ld,"  said  he,  "one  of  the  wonders  of  the 
world.  I  have  seen  a  man,  who  has  made  the  fortune  of  a  nation,  laboring  all 
night  io  support  his  family."  And  yet,  while  thus  working  at  his  ordinary 
calling,  Hamilton  never  withdrew  his  attention  from  public  affairs.  He  was  still 
the  leader  of  his  party,  and  the  unsalaried  adviser  of  the  President ;  and  as  a 


HAMILTON  A T  HOME.  1 1 1 

necessary  consequence,  he  was  still  the  mark,  for  the  poisoned  arrows  of  his 
enemies. 

From  1795  to  1797  Washini^^ton  often  had  recourse  to  Hamilton  for 
counsel.  He  had  resolvetl  to  retire  from  office  at  the  expiration  of  his  second 
term  ;  and,  as  the  time  approached,  he  determined  to  issue  a  I'^arewell  Address 
to  the  American  people.  On  this  subject  also  he  consulted  Hamilton.  There 
has  been  much  controversy  as  to  the  exact  authorship  of  this  celel^rated  pai)er, 
but  the  fact  seems  to  be  that,  while  the  oriy^inal  s^'^roundwork  was  Washington's 
own,  the  superstructure  was  in  j^rt-at  part  Hamilton's.  While  he  retained 
wherever  he  could  the  thou5.,dits  ami  lanjj^ua_L,re  of  Washini^ton,  \\v.  atlded  much 
valuable  matter,  antl  broui^ht  the  whole  into  its  present  form.  Calm,  wise,  and 
noble,  it  is  a  monument  worthy  of  the  <rreat  man  whose  name  it  bears  ;  and,  had 
the  American  people  always  remembered  its  lessons,  it  would  have  been  well 
for  their  own  peace,  and  conducive  to  the  happiness  of  the  world. 

In  the  neiL,diborhood  of  Xew  York,  but  still  in  the  midst  of  rural  scenery, 
Hamilton,  after  resijrning'  his  position  in  the  g^overnment,  purchased  a  small 
estate.  The  y-round  was  adorned  with  fine  old  trees,  a  pleasant  lawn  s])read  in 
front  of  the  house,  and  the  balcony  commanded  a  maLjnificent  prospect.  1  lar- 
lem  River,  Lont^  Island  Sound,  and  many  a  scene  endeared  by  its  own  beauty, 
or  made  interesting'  by  associations,  were  visible  from  this  lovely  spot.  Hamil- 
ton called  it  "The  Granite,"  after  the  name  of  his  ^grandfather's  house  in 
Scotland ;  and  thither  he  came  from  the  labors  of  his  profession,  to  enjoy  the 
society  of  his  family  and  the  refreshment  of  a  country  life,  lie  was  once  more 
a  busy  man  at  the  bar,  and,  althouj^h  he  could  never  keep  cpiite  clear  of  politics, 
they  no  longer  occupied  all  his  thouL,dits.  He  busied  himself  with  his  s^arden, 
— "a  very  useful  refuij^^c,"  he  says,  "for  a  disappointed  politician," — sent  to 
Carolina  for  melon-seeds  and  paroquets  for  his  dauij^hter,  j)layed  at  soldiers  with 
his  boys,  and  spent  summer  evenings  with  his  friends  on  the  green  slopes  of 
his  domain.  A  great  sorrow  came  to  darken  this  cheerful  picture.  His  eldest 
son,  a  promising  youth  of  twenty,  was  killed  in  a  duel  arising  from  a  dispute 
at  the  theatre.  It  was  a  bitter  grief  to  the  fadier  and  all  the  family  ;  but  it 
only  foreshadowed  the  worsen  calamity  that  was  to  follow. 

Hamilton  met  his  death  at  the  hands  of  Aaron  Burr,  in  a  duel,  on  July  11, 
1804.  At  that  time  public  sentiment  on  the  s-ilijcct  of  dueling  was  such  as  to 
make  it  very  difficult  for  Hamilton  to  refuse  Purr's  challenge.  They  had  long 
been  political  opponents,  and  Hamilton  had  more  than  once  denounced  Burr's 
public  acts.  Burr  addressed  a  letcer  to  Hamilton,  repeating  a  newspaper  report 
that  Hamilton  had  "  expt-pcc^-pj  j^  despicable  opinion"  of  Burr,  and  "looked  upon 
him  as  a  dangerous  man,"  and  demanding  a  wholesale  denial  or  retractation. 
This  it  was  obviously  impossible  to  give.  The  correspondence  which  followed  l(;ft 
Hamilton  no  choice  but  to  either  accept  or  decline  Burr's  challenge.     A  paper 


113 


ALEXAXI)/:k  If.  IJ///./V.V. 


writu-n  betorL-  ihtt  ilucl  <'.\|)l;iliis  his  n.-asons  tor  not  ckxliiiiiiL;  Uj  mcvX  lUirr, 
which  \\(.'rc  in  (.-tfcct  tliat  in  th(.  state  of  |)ul)lic:  opinion  on  duclins^,  a  refusal  to 
accept  his  chall(MiL;i*  would  destroy  his  pul.)hc  iisefiihiess  afterward. 

1  he  (hiel  took  place  at  W  (M-hawken,  in  New  ji'rsey,  nearly  opposite  New 
York.  When  the  wortl  was  L;iven,  I  lanillton  did  not  fu'e  inuni'diately ;  but 
Hurr,  taking- delil)erate  aim,  tiri^il,  the  ball  enteriiiL^  Hamilton's  rioht  side.  He 
was  taken  across  the  Hudson  to  his  home,  where  he  died  tlu^  followiiiL;-  day. 

Hamilton  was   not  faultless;  but  his  errors   were  greatly  e.xaggerated  by 


Dl'll,    BKTWKKN    HIKK    AND    ll.\MllTn\. 


his  enemies  ;  and  there  were  few  among  his  distinguished  political  adversaries 
\  whose  i)rivate  character  approachetl  his  in  purity.  His  public  life  was  without 
a  stain.  In  ability  he  stands  in  the  front  rank.  "He  must  be  classed,"  says 
the  great  bVench  historian  Ciuizot,  "among  the  men  who  have  best  known  the 
vital  princi])les  anil  fundamental  conilitions  of  government.  There  is  not  in 
the  Constitution  of  the  United  States  an  element  of  order,  strength,  or  durabil- 
ity which  he  did  not  pow'erfully  contribute  to  introduce  into  it."  The  judgment 
of  history  will  undoubt(;d!y  be  that  .Alexander  Hamilton  was  the  greatest  con- 
structive statesman  of  the  eighteenth  century. 


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THOMAS  JEFFERSON, 

THK    I^IONKliK    OK    niCMOCKACV     IN    AMKKICA. 


AT  tlif  hcj^iiiniiiL,'^  of  till'  nine- 
teenth century  tlu:  people 
of  the  rnit(;tl  States  may 
he  said  to  ha\  e  bt^en  tli- 
\  iileil  into  two  classes, — 
those  who  thought  Thomas 
Jetlerson  the  nrreate'st  ami 
wisest  of  liviiiL^r  men,  antl 
those  who  belie\('d  him  the 
worst  and  most  danm'roiis. 
'I'he  I-"renrh  Revolution, 
that  i^reat  uprising  of  the 
masst's  against  th("  o|)pres 
sions  ol  (U'S|)otic  power, 
hatl  then  dixitled  pui)lic 
opinion  throujj^hout  the 
whole  civilized  world.  Jef- 
ferson was  at  the  head  of 
the  party  which  sympa- 
thized with  the-  common 
people,  anil  advocated  their 
cause.  The  opposite  party, 
shocked  and  horrified  at 
the  excesses  committed  hy 
the  revolutionists  in  I'Vance, 
looked  upon  cverythinsj;'  democratic  with  indescribable  fear  and  aversion. 
These  extremes  of  opinion  make  it  difficult,  even  at  this  tlay,  to  <^et  a  fair  and 
moderate  opinion  of  Jefferson.  He  is  either  a  fientl  incarnate  or  an  anjrel  of 
lijrht.  But  whether  the  principles  for  which  he  stood  be  approved  or  con- 
demned, their  success  at  least  cannot  be  denied.  Jefferson  was  the  pioneer 
of  democracy,   the   apostle  of  the  sovereignty  of  the  common   people,   which 

115 


THP:  I.IBKRTV  HEM.,  AS    rxilITU  11  I)  A  P    llIK  NFAV  liRLKANs  EXl'DSrilON. 


J 16  THOMAS  JHFFERSON. 

from  his  time  to  the  present  has  become  (nery  year  more  firmly  rooted  in 
American  politics  ;  and  wlu^ther  it  be  for  good  or  ill,  it  is  for  this  that  he  will  be 
remembered  in  the  ciMiturics  yet  to  come. 

'Ihomas  Jefferson  was  born  in  1743,  near  the  site  of  the  present  town  of 
Cliarlottesvilht,  \  ir>^inia.  I  lis  father,  Peter  Jefferson,  owned  a  plantation  of 
fourteen  hundred  acres  called  Shadwell,  from  the  name  of  the  parish  in  Lonilon 
where  his  wife  was  born.  His  home  was  lil(trally  hewn  out  of  the  wilderness. 
There  were  but  few  white  settlers  within  many  miles  of  the  mansion,  which  con- 
sisted of  a  spacious  story  and  a  half  cotta_i,rc-house,  A  wide  hall  and  four  larj^e 
rooms  occupied  the  lower  floor.  Above  these  there  were  j^ood  chambers  and  a 
spacious  cfarret.  Two  hu^je  outside  chimneys  contributed  to  the  picturesrpie 
aspect  of  the  mansion.  It  was  dt.'li^htfully  situateil  upon  a  i^entle  swell  of  land 
on  the  slopes  of  the  Blue  Ridge,  and  commanded  a  sublime  prospect  of  far- 
reachintj  mountains  and  forests. 

Thomas  was  naturally  of  a  serious,  pensive,  reflective  turn  of  mind.  From 
the  time  he  was  five  years  ofatje  he  was  k(.'|)t  ililiy^ently  at  school  under  the  best 
teachers.  He  was  a  !L,^eneral  favorite  with  both  teachers  anil  scholars.  In  the  year 
1760  he  entered  William  and  Mary  College.  Williamsburi,'- was  then  the  seat 
of  the  colonial  court,  and  the  abode  of  fashion  and  splendor.  Yountj  Jefferson 
lived  in  coUesfe  somewhat  expensively,  keepincf  fine  horses,  and  much  caressed 
by  \:^i\y  society.  Still,  he  was  earnestly  devoted  to  his  studies  and  irreproachable 
in  his  morals. 

In  1767  he  entered  upon  the  practice  of  the  law.  His  thoroughly  disci- 
plined mind,  ample  stores  of  knowl(;dge,  and  polished  address,  were  rapidly 
raising  him  to  distinction,  when  the  outl)reak  of  the  Revolution  introduced  him 
to  loftier  spheres  of  responsibility.  He  had  been  but  a  short  time  admitted  to 
the  bar  ere  he  was  chosen  by  his  fellow-citizens  to  a  seat  in  the  Legislature  of 
Virginia.  This  was  in  1769.  Jefferson  was  then  the  largest  slaveholder  in  the 
house.  It  is  a  remarkable  evitlence  of  his  foresight,  his  moral  courage,  and  the 
love  of  liberty  which  inspired  him.  that  lie  introtluced  a  bill  empowering  slave- 
holders to  manumit  their  slaves  if  they  wished  to  do  so.  Slavery  caught  the 
alarm.     The  proposition  was  rejected  by  an  overwhelming  vote. 

In  1772  he  married  Mrs.  Martha  Skelton,  a  very  beautiful,  wealthy,  and 
highly  accomplished  young  widow.  She  brought  to  him,  as  her  munificent 
dowry,  forty  thousand  acres  of  land,  and  one  hundred  and  thirty-five  slaves.' 
He  thus  became  one  of  the  largest  slaveholders  in  \'irginia  :  and  yet  he  labored 
with  all  his  energies  for  the  abolition  of  slavery ;  declaring  the  institution  to  be 
a  curse  to  the  master,  a  curse  to  the  slave,  and  an  offense  in  the  sight  of  God. 

In  1775  Jefferson  was  chosen  a  member  of  the  Continental  Congress,  and 
in  June  of  that  year  he  left  Williamsburg  to  take  his  seat  ■  in  the  Congress 
at  Philadelphia.     He  nas  the  youngest  member  in  the  body  but  one.     His 


THE  REVOLUTIONARY  WAR.  117 

reputation  as  a  writer  luul  prcccdi^cl  him.  and  lu;  iiniiuHliatcly  took  a  conspicu 
ous  stand,  thons^di  he  seldom  spoke.     The  native  suavity  of  Jefferson,  his  mod- 
esty, and  the  frankness  and  force  with  which  he  expresseil  his  views,  captivated 
even  his  opponents.     It  is  said  that  he  had  not  an  enemy  in  Conj^^ress. 

WKiriNc;    TIIK    CRl'.AT    DIXI.AKA  I  I<  )N. 

When  the  time  came  for  drafiinL,*^  the  "Declaration  of  Independence."  that 
great  task  was  committed  to  Jefferson.  I'Vanklin  and  Adams  sujj^j^ested  a  few 
chanties  before  it  was  submitted  to  Cont^ress,  Tlu.'  1  )eclaration  passetl  a  fiery 
ordeal  of  criticism,  I-'or  three  days  the  debate  continued.  Mr.  Jefferson  opened 
not  his  lips.  John  Adams  was  the  oreat  cliampion  of  the  Declaration  on  the 
floor.  ( )ne  may  search  all  the  a,!.(es  to  tind  a  more  sol(.:mn,  momentous  event  than 
the  sii^ming^  of  the  Declaration  of  IndepcMidence.  It  was  accompanied  with 
prayer  to  AlmiL,dity  (iod.  Silence  pervaded  the  room  as  one  after  another 
affixed  his  name  to  that  document,  which  brou_f,dit  down  upon  him  the  implacable 
hate  of  the  mit,ditiest  power  upon  the  _L,dol)e.  and  which  doomed  him  inevitably  to 
the  scaffold,  should  the  feeble  colonies  fail  in  the  unequal  struQ^i^de. 

In  1779  Mr.  Jefferson  was  chosen  <^overnor  of  Virginia.  He  was  then 
thirty-six  years  of  a_L,fe.  The  British  were  now  preparing'  to  strike  their  heaviest 
blows  upon  the  South.  Geor<j^ia  had  fallen  helpless  into  the  hands  of  the  foe ; 
South  Carolina  was  invaded,  and  Charleston  threatened.  At  one  time  the 
British  officer,  Tarleton,  sent  ?i  secret  expedition  to  Monticello  to  capture  the 
governor.  Scarcely  fiv;:  minutes  elapsed  after  the  hurried  escape  of  Mr.  Jeffer- 
son and  his  family  ere  his  mansion  was  in  the  possession  of  the  British  troojjs. 
A  detachment  of  the  army  of  Cornwallis,  in  their  march  north  from  the  Carolinas, 
seized  also  another  plantation  which  he  owned  on  the  James  river.  The  foe 
destroyed  all  his  crops,  burnt  his  barns  and  fences,  drove  off  the  cattle,  seized 
the  serviceable  horses,  cut  the  throats  of  the  colts,  and  left  the  whole  plantation 
a  smoulderinor,  blackened  waste.  Twenty-seven  slaves  were  also  carried  off. 
"Had  he  carried  off  the  slaves,"  says  Jefferson  with  characteristic  magnanimity, 
"to  give  them  freedom,  he  would  have  done  right." 

The  English  ministry  were  now  getting  tired  of  the  war.  The  opposition 
in  Parliament  had  succeeded  in  carrying  a  resolution  on  the  4th  of  March,  1782, 
"That  all  those  who  should  advise,  or  by  any  means  attempt,  the  further  prose- 
cution of  offensive  war  in  America,  should  be  considered  as  enemies  to  tlunr 
king  and  country."  This  popular  decision  overcame  the  obstinacy  of  the  king, 
and  he  was  compelled  to  make  overtures  for  peace. 

Mr.  Jefferson  had  wonderful  power  of  winning  men  to  his  opinions,  while 
he  scrupulously  avoided  all  controversy.  The  following  extract  from  a  letter  to 
his  grandson  brings  clearly  to  light  this  trait  in  his  character : — 

"In  stating  prudential  rules  for  our  government  in  society,  I  must  not  omit 


1 18 


THOMAS  jnri-HRSON. 


the  iiiiportaiU  mv  of  never  enterins^f  into  ilispute  or  arjjuinent  with  another.  I 
never  y('t  saw  an  instance  of  ont;  of  two  disputants  convincin)^  \.\w  other  by 
ari,nnnent :  I  hive  seen  many,  of  their  ijettinij  warm,  hecomin^f  rude,  and  shoot- 
ing one  anothtrr.     C\)nviction  is  tlie  cHectof  our  own  dispassionate  reasoninjj, 


INlll'.l'KMlKMi:    HAT. I,,    I'll  1 1.ADKI.l'll  I  A. 


either  in  solitude  or  weiqliinij;-  within  ourselves  dispassionately  what  we  hear 
from  others,  standinijf  uncommitted  in  ar^^ument  ourselves.  It  was  one  of  the 
rules,  which,  above  all  others,  made  Dr.  Franklin  the  most  amiable  of  men  in 
society,  '  never  to  contradict  anybody.'  " 


A'A/TA'A'   IROM  INAXCI-:.  1 19 

In  May.  'r^^-l.  C'on^rrss  ai»|»oint('(l  Mr.  |<trcrs()ii  to  act  as  minisicr  with 
Mr.  .\ilains  ami  1  )r.  I'Vaiiklin  in  nci^otiatinL,^  trcalirs  of  ciMninriic  with  lorci^ii 
nations,  l.cavint,''  two  (laiii^^htcrs  with  thi  ir  annt,  hi"  took  his  rldcsl  daiiL^htci 
Manila  with  him  and  saih'il  for  I'.uropc.  .Mttr  a  dchi^Iuliil  voyage  ht-  riai  hcd 
Paris  on  the  oth  of  .\ni.,Mist.  1  Icrc  he  plact'd  his  daiii^lUfr  at  school,  and,  nicct- 
inj.^  his  collcaniK's  at  I'assy,  (Mi^aL^fd  vii^foroiisly  with  tiit-ni  in  accoinplishinj.;  the 
()bj<;ct  of  his  niision.  I  )r.  j-ranklin,  now  a^^cd  and  int'irm,  obtained  pcnnission 
to  return  home  h'oni  his  JMnhassy  to  Irance.  llis  ^^tnial  charaitcr.  combined 
with  his  illustrious  merit,  had  won  the  love  of  the  I'rench  people  ;  and  In;  was 
unboundedly  popular  with  both  peasant  and  |)rince.  Such  attentions  were 
lavished  upon  him  in  his  journey  from  Paris  t(<  the  coast,  that  it  was  almost  an 
ovation.  It  was,  iiuleed,  a  delicate  matter  to  step  into  the  |)osition  which  hail 
been  occupied  b\'  one  so  enthusiastically  admired.  Pew  men  could  haxc  done 
thi.s  so  <.^racehilly  as  did  Jelferson. 

"  Voa  replace  .Monsieur  Pfanklin,  1  hear."  said  th<'  celebrated  Preneh 
minister,  the  Count  de  \"erL;cnnes.  "I  siun-c'd  him,"  was  tiie  prompt  repl)  : 
"no  man  can  replace  him." 

sKCKi. :auv  oi'  sr\ri;. 

In  .Septemb(jr,  1  jSg,  Jefferson  returned  with  his  daughter  to  America. 
Immediately  upon  his  return  from  brance,  Washington  wrote  to  him  in  the  most 
tlalterinL,r  t('rms,  urL^iuL;'  ui)on  him  a  seal  in  his  cabinet  as  .Si-cret.ir)-  of  .State. 
After  some  conferi;nce  h<;  accepted  the  ajjpointnient.  Mis  eldest  daughter, 
Martha,  was  married  on  the  2.;d  of  February,  1700.  to  Colonel  'Phomas  M. 
Ranilol|)h.  .\  few  ilays  after  the  weddiny;',  on  \\\v.  ist  of  March,  Mr.  Jeff(!rson 
set  out  for  New  \ Ork,  which  was  then  the  seat  of  L,M)vernment.  I  \v  went  by 
way  of  RichnKMid  anil  .\le.\andria.  Phe  roads  were  horrible.  .At  the  latter 
place  he  took  a  stage,  sendint^  his  carriaije  round  by  water,  and  leading;'  his 
horses.  rhrou<.^h  snow  and  muil,  their  speed  seldom  e.xceeiled  three  or  four 
miles  an  hour  by  day,  and  one  mile  an  hour  by  ni^ht.  .\  fortnight,  of  threat 
fati^-ue,  was  consumed  in  the  journey.  Occasionally  (elferson  reli(;ved  the 
monotony  of  the  dreary  ride  by  moimtiny^  his  led  saddle-horse.  At  Philadel- 
phia he  called  ujx)!!  his  friend  Benjamin  PVanklin,  then  in  his  last  illne-ss. 

The  American  Revolution  did  not  oriirinate  in  hostility  to  a  monarchical 
form  of  |L,'^overnment.  but  in  resisting-  the  o[)pressions  which  that  government 
was  indicting  upon  the  .American  people.  Consecpiently,  many  persons,  who 
were  most  active  in  the  Revolution,  would  have  been  very  willing  to  see  an 
independent  monarchy  established  here.  But  Mr.  Jefferson  had  seen  so  much 
of  the  pernicious  intluence  of  kings  and  courts  in  Europe  that  he  had  become 
an  intense  republican.  I'pon  his  arrival  in  New  York  he  was  much  surprised 
at  the  freedom  with  which  many  persons  advocated  a  monarchical  government. 
He  writes, — 


120 


THOMAS  JEFFERSON. 


"I  cannot  describe  the  wonder  and  mortification  with  which  the  table  con- 
versation filled  me.  Politics  were  the  chief  topic  ;  and  a  preference  of  a  kinj^dy 
over  a  republican  ^'ONcniiiKMit  was  evidently  the  favorite  stMitiment.  An  apos- 
tate I  couhl  not  l)e,  nor  yet  a  hypocrite  ;  and  I  found  mysi'lf  for  the  most  part, 
the  only  advocate  on  the  republican  side  of  the  (piestion,  unless  anionjj;-  the 
fTuests  there  chanced  to  be  some  member  of  that  party  from  the  legislative 
houses.  " 

President  Washington  watched  with  great  anxiety  the  rising  storm,  and  did 
all  he  could  to  tpiell  its  fury.  His  cabinet  was  divided.  General  Hamilton, 
Secretary  of  the    Treasury,   was  leader  of   the   so-called   T'ederal   party.     Mr. 


STAC.K-CDAtH    Ol'-   JKl'IKRSDN  s^    TIMK. 


Jefferson,  .Secretary  of  .State,  was  leader  of  the  Republican  party.  On  the  30th 
of  Septeniber,  1792,  as  he  was  going  from  Monticello  to  the  seat  of  govern- 
HKMit,  he  stopped,  as  usual,  at  Mount  Vernon,  and  spent  a  night  with  President 
Washington.  Mr.  Jefferson  makes  the  following  record  in  his  note-book  of  this 
int(;rview,  which  shows  conclusively  that  President  Washington  did  not  agree 
with  Mr.  Jefterson  in  his  belief  that  there  was  a  strong  monarchical  party  in  this 
country : — 

"The  President,"  he  writes,  "expressed  his  concern  at  the  difference  which 
he  found  to  subsist  between  the  Secretary  of  the  Treasury  and  myself,  of  which, 
he  said,  he  had  not  been  aware.  He  knew,  indeed,  that  there  was  a  marked 
difference  in  our  political  sentiments  ;  but  he  had  never  suspected  it  had  gone 


DISPUTES    WITH  HAMILTON.  I2i 

so  far  in  producing;  a  personal  ditlercncc,  and  he  wished  he  could  be  the  mediator 
to  put  an  end  to  it ;  that  he  thought  it  important  to  preserve  the  check  of  my 
opinions  in  the  administration,  in  ortler  to  keep  things  in  their  jiroper  channc^l, 
and  prevent  them  from  going  too  far ;  thai,  as  to  the  idea  of  transJorDinn^  this 
government  into  a  nioiiarehy,  he  did  not  believe  there  loere  ten  men  in  the  I  'nited 
States,  7vhose  opinions  were  tvorth  attention,  ivho  entertained  sne/i  a  t/ioitoht." 

Some  important  fuiancial  measures  which  were  proposed  by  Mr.  Hamilton, 
Mr.  Jefferson  violently  opposed.  They  were,  however,  sustained  by  the  cabinet, 
adopted  by  both  houses  of  the  legislature,  and  approved  by  the  President.  The 
enemies  of  Mr.  Jefferson  now  pressed  him  with  the  charge  of  indc^licacy  in  hold- 
ing office  under  a  government  whose  leading  measures  he  opposed.  Hitter  was 
the  warfare  waged  between  the  two  hostile  secretaries.  Hamilton  accused 
Jefferson  of  lauding  the  constitution  in  public,  while  in  private  he  had  admitted 
that  it  contained  those  imperfections  of  ivant  of  power  which  1  lamilton  laid  to  its 
charge. 

I'he  President  seems  to  have  been  in  accord  with  Mr.  Jefferson  in  his  views 
of  the  importance  of  maintaining  cordial  relations  with  Prance.  I)Oth  l^ngland 
and  .Spain  were  then  making  encroachments  upon  us,  very  menacing  in  th(;ir 
aspect.  The  President,  in  a  conversation  with  Mr.  Jefferson,  on  the;  ::7th  of 
December,  1792,  urged  the  necessity  of  making  sure  of  the  alliance  with  Prance 
in  the  event  of  a  ru[)ture  with  either  of  these  powers.  "  There  is  no  nation," 
said  he,  "on  whom  we  can  rely  at  all  times,  but  Prance."  This  had  long  been 
one  of  the  funtlamental  principles  of  Mr.  Jefferson's  policy.  L^pon  the  election 
of  President  Washington  to  his  s(!Cond  term  of  office,  Mr.  Jefferson  wishi'd  to 
retire  from  the  Cabinet.  Dissatisfaction  with  the  measures  of  the  government 
was  doubtless  a  leading  cause.  At  the  earnest  solicitation,  however,  of  the 
President,  he  consented  to  remain  in  his  position,  which  was  daily  becoming 
more  uncomfortable,  until  the  last  of  July,  when  he  again  sent  in  his  resignation. 
But  still  again  President  Washington  so  earnestly  entreated  him  to  remain,  that, 
very  reluctantly,  he  consentt'd  to  continue  in  office  until  the  close  of  the  year. 

Every  day  the  poliucal  horizon  was  growing  more  stormy.  All  liurope 
was  in  the  blaze  of  war.  luigland,  the  most  powerful  monarchy  on  the  globe, 
was  straining  every  nerve  to  crush  the  French  Revolution.  '\'\\v.  haughty  course 
which  the  British  government  pursued  toward  the  United  .States  had  exasper- 
ated even  the  placid  Washington.  He  wrote  to  General  Hamilton  on  the  31st 
of  August,  1794: — 

"  By  these  high-handed  measures  of  that  government,  and  the  outrageous 
and  insulting  conduct  of  its  officers,  it  would  seem  next  to  impossible  to  keep 
peace  between  the  United  States  and  Great  Britain." 

Even  John  Adams  became  aroused.  Two  years  after,  he  wrote,  in  refer- 
ence  to  the  cool  treatment  which  his  son,  John  Ouincy  Adams,  had  received  in 


122  T//OMAS  JHFI'JiRSON. 

Eiitj^land  :  "I  ;un  l;1;ii1  of  it;  for  I  uoukl  not  havi;  my  son  i^'o  as  far  as  Mr. 
lay,  and  attinn  the.  tricndly  disijosition  of  that  coiinlry  to  this.  I  know  l)(,-tter. 
I  know  their  jeak)us\',  envy,  hatnnk  anel  rcvcnL;c,  co\('r<Hl  inuh'r  prctcndc-tl 
contempt."  Jefferson's  shnnht^riiiL;-  ener^jies  were  electrified  ;  he  wrott;  fiery 
letters,  and  by  his  conversational  I'lcxjiience  moved  all  who  approached  him. 

A  new  pritsidential  ek'ction  came-  on.  |ohn  Adams  was  the  I'edt'ral  can- 
diatc  ;  Ihomas  |etti'rson  the  kepuhlican.  It  does  not  appear  that  Mr,  |etterson 
was  at  all  solicitous  of  heiin^'  elei  ted.  Indeed,  lu;  wrote  to  Mr.  Madison,  "There 
is  iiothiiiL^"  1  so  anxiously  h()[)e  as  that  my  name  may  come  out  either  seccjiid  or 
third  ;  as  the*  last  would  h'ave  me  at  home  the  whole  of  the  year,  and  tin;  other 
two-thirds  of  it.  "  AlludiiiL;^  to  tin;  possihilitv  that  "the  representatives  ma)' Ijc 
divitled,"  he  makes  the;  rtMuarkahle  declar.ition,  of  the  sincerit\'  of  which  no  one 
who  knows  the  man  can  doubt,  "This  is  a  difficultv  from  which  the  Constitution 
has  i>rovided  no  issu(.'.  It  is  both  m\'  dut\'  and  inclination,  therefore,  to  relieve 
the  einbarrassiiKMit,  should  it  happen  ;  and,  in  that  case  I  prav  you,  and  autho- 
rize you  fully,  to  solicit  on  my  behalf  ihrit  Mr.  Adams  may  Ix;  preferred.  I  le 
has  always  been  my  senior  from  the  commenceiiK'nt  of  our  public  lih; ;  and,  the 
expression  of  the  public  will  being  e(|ual,  this  circumstance  ouyht  to  give  him 
the  [)reter(!nce." 

As  the  result  of  the  election,  Mr.  Adams  became  l^resident,  and  Mr.  lef- 
ferson,  \'ice-l'resident.  This  remleri-d  it  necessary  for  him  to  lea\e  Monticello 
for  a  few  months  each  \'ear  to  attend  the  sessions  of  Congress.  I  lis  numerous 
letters  to  his  children  show  how  wearx'  he  had  become  of  party  strife,  with 
what  reluctance  he  left  his  home,  with  w  hat  iov  ln'  returned  to  it. 

\\\  luiK',  I  ,Soo,  Congress  moxcd  from  Philadelphia  to  Washington.  The 
n(!W  seat  of  go\(M'nment,  liter.dlv  hewn  out  of  lln'  wilderness,  was  a  dreary  i)lac<!. 
'['hough  for  twel\(>  xcars  workmen  h.id  iiecu  emplo\'etl  in  that  lonelw  uninhab- 
ited, out-of-the-wa\-  spot,  in  putting  up  the  public  buildings,  there  was  nothing 
as  }et  Imished  :  and  xast  piles  of  stom^  and  brick  'xwd  mortar  were  scattered 
at  great  distances  h'om  each  otliei^,  with  swamps  or  sand  banks  intervening. 

Mrs.  John  .\dams,  who  had  sei'ii  tlie  residences  ot  ro\'alty  in  burope, — . 
Ikickingham  Palace,  X'ersailles,  and  the  Iiiileries, — gi\'es  an  amusii-ig  accotint 
of  their  'ei^rancc;  upon  the  spltMidors  of  the  "  White  llousi;."  \\\  trving  to  find 
Washington  from  iialtimore,  they  got  lost  in  the  woods.  ,\fter  driving  for  some 
titne,  b(>wildered  in  forest  paths,  the\-  chanced  tocomeu|)on  ;i  black  man,  whom 
thev  hired  to  guide  them  through  liie  forest.  "  Ihe  house,"  she  writes,  "is 
upon  a  grand  and  superb  scale,  recpiiring  about  thirty  sc-rvants  to  attend,  and 
keep  thc!  apartments  in  projx'r  order.  The  tires  we  are  obliged  to  kee]),  to 
secure  us  from  daily  agues,  are  another  very  che(!ring  comfort ;  but,  surrounded 
with  forests,  can  you  beliexc  that  wo(jd  is  not  to  be  had,  because  people  cannot 
be  fotnid  to  cut  and  cart  it?" 


SK.Nl.Nd    Till-;    lii;(  IjVKAIHIN    UI'    AMI.KU  an    IM)l:li.M)K.N(K. 


1 24  THOMAS  JEFFERSON. 

'I'hc'  four  years  of  Mr.  Jctfcrson's  Vice-Presidency  passed  joylessly  away, 
while  the  storm  of  partisan  strife  between  I'ederalist  and  Republican  was  ever 
growinsj;-  hotter.  (General  Hamilton,  who  was  a  great  power  in  those  days, 
became  as  much  alienated  from  Mr.  Adams  as  from  Jefferson.  'Iliere  was  a 
split  in  the  b'ederal  party.  A  new  [)residential  election  came  on.  Mr.  Jeffer- 
son was  chosen  President  ;  and  Aaron  Burr,  \'ice-President. 

Till-:   ri;()i'Li:'s   rRi'.siDFNT. 

The  news  of  tlu;  election  of  Jefferson  was  received  in  most  parts  of  the 
Union  with  the  liveliest  demonstrations  of  Joy.  He  was  the  leader  of  the  suc- 
cessful and  rapidly  increasip  ^  party.  His  friends  were  found  in  every  city  and 
village  in  our  land.  They  had  been  taught  to  believe  that  the  triumph  of  the 
opposite  party  would  be  the  triumph  of  aristocratic  privilege  and  of  civil  and 
religious  despotism.  On  the  other  hand,  many  of  the  Federalists  turned  pale 
whim  the  tidings  reached  them  that  Thomas  Jefferson  was  President  of  the 
United  States.  P)oth  the  pulpit  and  the  press  had  taught  them  that  he  was  the 
Incarnation  of  all  e\  il, — an  infidel,  an  atheist,  a  scofter  at  all  things  sacred  ;  a 
le\<:lcr,  a  revolutionist,  an  atlvocate  of  mob  government. 

Jeff{;rson  was  (exceedingly  simple  in  his  tastes,  having  a  morbid  dislike  of 
all  that  court  eticpiette  which  had  disgusted  him  so  much  in  luirope.  Washing- 
ton rode  to  the  halls  o{  Congress  in  state,  drawn  by  six  cream-colored  horses. 
Jefferson,  on  the  morning  of  his  inauguration,  rode  on  horseback  to  the  Capitol 
in  a  dr('ss  of  plain  cloth,  without  guard  or  servant,  dismounted  without  assist- 
ance, and  fastened  the  bridle  of  his  horse  to  the  fence.  It  may  be  that  Mr. 
JeffcM'son  had  allowed  his  mind  to  become  so  thoroughly  imbued  with  the  con- 
viction that  our  government  was  drifting  towards  monarchy  and  aristocracy, 
that  he  felt  bound  to  set  the  example  of  extreme  democratic  simplicity. 

'Hie  political  principles  of  the  Jeffersonian  party  now  swept  the  country, 
and  Mr.  Jefferson  swayed  an  inlluence  which  was  never  exceeded  by  Washing- 
ton himself  Louisiana,  under  which  name  was  then  included  the  whole  territory 
west  of  the  Mississippi  to  the  Pacific,  was  purchased  of  France,  under  his  admin- 
istration, in  the  year  1S03,  for  fifteen  millions  of  dollars. 

He  was  now  smitten  by  another  tlomestic  grief  In  the  year  1S04  his  beau- 
tiful daughter  Maria,  whom  he  so  tenderly  loved,  sank  into  the  grave,  leaving 
her  babe  behinil  her.  His  eldest  daughter,  Martha,  speaking  of  her  father's 
suffering  under  this  ttM^rible  grief,  says, — 

"I  found  him  with  the  l?ible  in  his  hands.  He  who  has  been  so  often  and 
so  harshly  accused  of  unbelief — he,  in  his  hour  of  intense  affliction,  sought  and 
founil  consolation  in  the  sacred  volume.  The  comforter  was  there  for  his  true 
heart  and  devout  spirit,  even  though  his  faith  might  not  be  what  the  world  calls 
orthoilox," 


SECOND   TliRM  AS   rRlwSlDENT. 


1-5 


Another  presidcMitial  election  came  in  1S04.  Mr.  Jefferson  was  reek!Ct(!cl 
President  with  wonderful  unanimity;  and  (leorL;^  Clinton,  \'ice-l'resid(Mit.  Jef- 
ferson was  sixty-two  years  of  aL;e,  when,  on  the  4th  of  March,  1805,  he  centered 
upon  his  second  term  of  (jtlice.  ( )ur  relations  with  I'.nL^land  w(M'e  tlaily  becoin- 
inijr  more  complicatetl,  from  th(;  Ih'itish  demand  ot  tht;  rii^lu  t(j  stop  any  of  our 
ships,  whc;ther  belonirin<^  to  either  the  commercial  or  na\al  marine,  and  to  take 
from  them  any  sailors  whom  they  telt  disposed  to  chiim  as  British  sui)jects.  I'he 
course  lini^land  pursued  rendered  it  certain  that  war  couM  not  he  avoidetl.  Mr. 
Jefferson  humanely  did  everythini,'-  in  his  power  to  prevent  the   Indians  from 


KAIKI'W    riiriM'    IlilOr, — A     l  VI'IIAI,    VIKi.lNIA    CiirRT    lliU'^K. 


takinc;^  any  part  in  it  whatever.  The  British,  on  the  contr.iry,  were  endeavoring^ 
to  rouse  them  to  delude  the  frontiers  in  blood.  .Strancre  as  it  may  now  seem, 
the  measures  of  <;overnment  to  redress  these  wroneifs  were  virulently  opposed. 
Ikit  notwithstandiuij;^  the  strenL,^th  and  inlluence  of  the  opposition  to  Mr.  Jeffer- 
son's administration,  he  was  sustained  by  the  (general  voice  of  tht^  nation. 

In  the  year  1808  Mr.  Jefferson  closed  his  second  term  of  oftice,  and  James 
Madison  succeeded  him  as  President  of  the  United  States.  In  the  followinsjf 
terms  the  retiring  President  expresses  to  a  friend  his  feelings  upon  surrendering 
the  cares  of  office  : — 


126  THOMAS  JEFFERSON. 

"  Within  a  few  days  I  retire  to  my  family,  my  books,  and  farms  ;  and, 
havini^  gained  the  harljor  myself,  I  shall  look  on  my  friends,  still  biiffeting  the 
storm,  with  anxiety  indeed,  but  not  with  envy.  Never  did  a  prisoner,  released 
from  his  chains,  feel  such  relief  as  I  shall  on  shaking  off  the  shackles  of  power. 
Nature  intentied  me  for  the  trancpiil  pursuits  of  science  by  rendering  tht;m  my 
supreme  delight  ;  but  the  enormities  of  the  times  in  which  I  have  lived  have 
forced  me  to  take  a  part  in  resisting  them,  and  to  commit  myself  on  the  boister- 
ous ocean  of  political  passions.  I  thank  Gcjd  for  the  opportunity  of  retiring 
from  them  without  censure,  and  carrying  with  me  the  most  consoling  proofs  of 
public  approbation." 

IIO.MH    LIFE    AND    HOSI'nAIITV. 

Jefferson's  subsecjuent  life  at  Monticello  was  very  similar  to  that  of  Wash- 
ington at  Mount  Vernon.  His  mornings  he  devoted  to  his  numerous  corre- 
spondence ;  from  breakfast  to  dinner  he  was  in  the  shops  and  over  the  farms  ; 
from  dinner  to  dark  he  devoted  to  recreation  and  friends  ;  from  dark  to  early 
bedtime  he  reatl.  He  was  particularly  interested  in  young  men,  advising 
them  as  to  their  course  of  reading.  Several  came  and  took  up  their  resi 
dence  in  the  neighboring  town  of  Charlottesville,  that  they  might  avail  them- 
selves of  his  library,  which  was  ever  open  for  their  use. 

Toward  the  latter  part  of  his  life,  from  a  series  of  misfortunes,  Mr.  Jef- 
ferson because  deeply  involved  in  debt,  so  that  it  was  necessary  for  him  to 
sell  a  large  portion  of  his  estate.  He  was  always  profuse  in  his  hospitality. 
Whole  families  came  in  their  coaches  with  their  horses, — fathers  and  mothers, 
boys  and  girls,  babies  and  nurses, — and  remained  three  or  even  si.x  months. 
One  family  of  six  persons  came  from  Europe,  and  made  a  visit  of  ten  months. 
y\fter  a  short  tour  they  returned,  and  remained  six  months  longer.  Every 
day  brought  its  contingent  of  guests.  .Such  hospitality  would  speedily  con- 
sume a  larger  fortune  than  Mr.  Jefferson  possessed.  His  daughter,  Mrs. 
Randolph,  was  the  presiding  lady  of  this  immense  establishment.  The  domes- 
tic service  required  thirty-seven  house  servants.  Mrs.  Randolph,  upon  being 
asked  what  was  the  greatest  number  of  guests  she  had  ever  entertained  any 
one  night,   rt^plied.    "  she  believed  fifty." 

In  the  winter  Mr.  Jefferson  had  some  little  repose  from  the  crowd  of  visitors. 
He  then  enjoyed,  in  the  highest  possible  degree,  all  that  is  endearing  in  domes- 
tic life.  It  is  impossible  to  describe  the  love  with  which  he  was  cherished  by 
his  grandchiklren.  One  of  them  writes,  in  a  letter  overflowing  with  the  gush- 
ing of  a  loving  heart,  "  My  Bible  came  from  him,  my  .Shakespeare,  my  first 
writing-table,  my  fn'st  handsome  writing-desk,  my  first  Leghorn  hat,  my  first 
silk  dress  :  what,  in  short,  of  all  my  treasures  did  no/  come  from  him  ?  My 
sisters,  according  to  their  wants  and  tastes,  were  equally  thought  of,  equally 
provided  for.     Our  grandfather  seemed  to  read  our  hearts,  to  see  our  individual 


Lli-E  AT  MO.\riCI:LI.O. 


1-7 


wishes,  to  be   our  (rood  oreniiis,  to  wave  the  fairy  wand  to  brii^hteii  f)ur  youiiL,' 
lives  by  his  ^oodness  and  his  gilts." 

Another  writes:  "I  cannot  describe  the  feelings  of  veneration,  admiration, 
and  love  that  existed  in  my  heart  toward  him.  1  lool<ed  on  him  as  being  too 
great  and  good  for  my  comprehension  ;  and  yet  I  felt  no  tear  to  approach  him, 
and  be  taught  by  him  some  of  the  childish  sports  1  delighted  in.  Not  one  of 
;is,  in  our  wildest  moods,  ever  placed  a  toot  on  out;  ot  the  garden-binls,  for  that 
would  violate  one  of  his  rules  :  and  yet  I  never  heard  him  utter  a  harsh  word  to 
one  of  us,  or  speak  in  a  raised  tone  of  voice,  or  use  a  threat." 

In  iSi2  a  perfect  reconciliation  ttjok  place  between  Mr.  Adams  and  Mr. 
Jefferson  ;  the  latter  very  handsomely  and  magnanimously  making  the  iirst 
advances.  This  friendship,  which  was  ke])t  up  by  a  constant  interchange  of 
letters,  continued  unabated  until  their  death, — on  the  same  day,  and  almost  at 
the  same  hour. 

In  a  letter  tlatetl 
March  21,  1819,  he  writes 
to  Dr.  \'ine  I'tley,  "I 
,  never  go  to  Ijed  without 
an  hour  or  half  an  hour's 
previous  reading  of  some- 
thing moral  whereon  to 
ruminate  in  the  intervals 
of  sleep."  The  book  from 
which  he  ottenest  read  was 
a  collection  which  he  had 
made  by  cutting  such  pas- 
sages from  the  l-lvange- 
lists  as  came  directly  from 
the  lips  of  the  Saviour.  These  he  arranged  in  a  blank-book.  Jefferson  writes  to 
a  friend  :  "A  more  beautiful  or  precious  morsel  of  ethics  I  have  never  seen  :  it  is 
a  document  in  proof  that  I  am  a  real  Christian  ;  that  is  to  say,  a  disciple  of  the 
doctrines  of  Jesus."  This  book  Mr.  Jefferson  prepared  evidently  with  great 
care.  It  is  a  very  full  compend  of  the  teachings  of  our  .Saviour.  It  was  entitled 
"The  Philosophy  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth."  Me  also  prepared  a  secontl  volume, 
which  he  had  bound  in  morocco,  in  a  handsome  octave  volume,  and  which  he 
labeled  on  the  back,  "  Morals  of  Jesus."  It  is  a  little  remarkal)le  that  Mr. 
Jefferson  should  have  matle  these  collections  so  secretly  that  none  of  the  mem- 
bers of  his  family  knew  even  of  the  e.xistence  of  the  books  until  after  his  death. 

The  year  1826  opened  gloomily  upon  Mr.  Jefferson.  He  was  very  infirm, 
and  embarrassed  by  debts,  from  Mhich  he  could  see  but  little  hoi)e  of  extrica- 
tion.    The  indorsement  for  a  friend  had  placed  upon  him  an  additional  tiventy 


ONE  SIXTH OFA.  SPANISH 

MiU'd  I>allar.'orihcValu£^ 
Ihtreofi^t  GoldorSilver 
/a 6c give n in. ox ch a itg e  at 

Treasury  of  VIRGINIA, 

Tursuant  to    ACT     of 

iVSSEMBTLiY 

^/H^^    1777. 


csy^y^^ 


RGINIACURKENCY^ 


1 2  8  THOMA  S  JHFFliRSON. 

thousand  dollars  of  debt.  He  applied  to  the  Lcfrislature  for  permission  to  dis- 
pose of  a  lar«,re  portion  of  his  pro[)erty  by  lottery,  hoping-  thus  to  realize  a  sum 
sufficient  to  pay  his  debts,  and  to  leave  enough  to  give  him  a  competence  for 
his  few  remaining  days.  Though  opposed  to  all  gambling,  he  argued,  in  sup- 
port of  his  petition,  that  lotteries  were  not  immoral.  I  le  wrote  to  a  friend, 
that,  if  the  Legislature  would  grant  him  the  indulgence  he  solicited,  "  I  can  save 
the  house  of  Monticello  and  a  farm  atljoining  to  end  my  days  in,  and  bury  my 
bones  ;  if  not,  I  must  sell  house  and  all  here,  and  carry  my  family  to  Bed- 
ford, where  I  have  not  even  a  log  hut  to  put  my  head  into." 

To  Mr.  Jefferson's  great  gratification,  the  lottery  bill  finally  passed.  But, 
all  over  the  country,  friends,  who  appreciated  the  priceless  value  of  the  services 
which  he  had  rendered  our  nation,  began  to  send  to  him  tokens  of  their  love. 
The  mayor  of  New  York,  Philip  Hone,  sent  him,  collected  from  a  few  friends, 
eight  thousand  five  hundred  dollars  ;  from  Philadelphia,  five  thousand  dollars 
were  sent  ;  from  Baltimore,  three  thousand  dollars  ;  and  one  or  two  thousand 
more  were  sent  from  other  sources.  These  testimonials,  like  sunshine  breaking 
through  the  clouds,  dispelled  the  gloom  which  had  been  so  deeply  gathering 
around  his  declining  day.  \'ery  rapidly  he  was  now  sinking.  His  steps* 
became  so  feeble  that  with  difficulty  he  could  totter  about  the  house. 

There  was  something  peculiarly  gentle  and  touching  in  his  whole  demeanor. 
His  good-night  kiss,  his  loving  embrace,  his  childlike  simplicity  and  tenderness, 
often  brought  tears  to  the  eyes  of  those  whose  privilege  it  was  to  minister  to  his 
wants.  It  was  evident  that  he  was  conscious  that  the  hour  of  his  departure  was 
at  hand.  He  was  excec^dingly  careful  to  avoid  making  any  trouble,  and  was  far 
more  watchful  for  the  conifort  of  those  around  him  than  for  his  own.  His  pas- 
sage was  very  slow  down  into  the  vale  of  death.  To  one  who  expressed  the 
opinion  that  he  seemed  a  little  better,  he  replied, — 

"  Do  not  imagine  for  a  moment  that  I  feel  the  smallest  solicitude  about  the 
result.  I  am  like  an  old  watch,  w-ith  a  pinion  worn  out  here  and  a  wheel  there, 
until  it  can  go  no  longer." 

On  Monday  evening,  the  3d  of  July,  he  awoke  about  ten  o'clock  from 
troubled  sleep,  and,  thinking  it  morning,  remarked,  "This  is  the  4th  of  July." 
Immediately  he  sank  away  again  into  slumber.  As  the  night  passed  slowly 
away,  all  saw  that  he  was  sinking  in  death.  There  was  silence  in  the  death- 
chamber.  The  mysterious  separation  of  the  soul  from  the  body  was  painlessly 
taking  place.  About  noon,  July  4th,  1826,  the  last  breath  left  the  body,  and 
the  great  statesman  and  patriot  was  no  more. 


ANDREW  JACKSON, 


THE     HKRO    OP    THE    WAK    OK    1812.    AND     POPULAR 

PR  ESI  IDE  NT, 


SOME!  men  are  rcineinbered  for  what  they 
do;  others  for  what  they  arr.  To  the 
latter  chiss  l.)eloiius  Andrew  [ackson. 
Xo  American  has  U^ft  a  more;  chsiinct 
impress  of  hims(;lf  on  the  popuhir  mind  ; 
no  man  of  his  time  is  so  wc.'U  known, 
and  so  vividly  rememberetl.  lie  may 
he  loved  or  hated,  but  he  cannot  be  for- 
q-otten.  And  this  is  not  because  he  was 
twice  President,  nor  l)ecause  he  threat- 
ened to  han^n"  the  South  Carolina  nuUi- 
fiers,  nor  because  he  madi;  war  on  the 
United  States  Hank,  nor  because  he 
introduced  the  spoils  system.  It  is 
because  he  was  Andrew  Jackson. 

No  iji'reater  contrast  could  be  found 

1^   ..^.-(^laiS^fWBHW^  ^'^'^"    ^^'"-^^   between    his    administration 

(^  /Z"']^'   .'"^^i^l^^v?*  '^^'^^  the  preceding-  one  of  John  Ouincy 

Adams.  Adams  was  the  model  official. 
His  ambition  was  to  make  his  adminis- 
tration a  perfect  machine.  Under  it  the  i^eople  prospered  ;  the  public  business 
was  admirably  done  ;  the  country  grew  and  expanded.  P)Ut  amid  all  this  his 
personality  was  almost  completely  sunk.  Few  ever  thought  of  John  Ouincy 
Adams.  When  Jackson  became  President,  this  was  reversed.  Good  nnni  were 
turned  out  and  bad  men  were  put  in.  The  public  business  was  sacrificed  to 
personal  and  party  advantage.  The  rights  and  powers  of  other  branches  of 
the  government  were  usurped,  and  tyranny  of  the  grossest  kind  came  to  be  a 
matter  of  course.  Amid  all  this  the  single  figure  was  Andrew  Jackson.  He 
was  the  person  whom  every  one  saw,  of  whom  all  thought  and  talked  ;  and  it 
is  safe  to  say  that  no  other  President,  down  to  the  time  of  Lincoln,  is  so  well 
remembered  by  the  common  people. 

131 


i.?J  AXDRl-.W  J.  ILK  SOX. 

Jackson  was  horn  in  ihc  northwestern  corner  of  South  LaroHna,  in  1707. 
1  li-^  lather,  an  h'ishnian  ot  Scotch  descent,  ulio  had  only  two  years  before  conn; 
to  this  <  oinilr) .  diid  In  tore  his  l>irth,  h-ax  in^;  his  mother  .d most  utterl\'  lU'stilute-, 
vvitli  the  lare  ni  a  laru;e  tamily.  Nothin:;  conkl  exceed  the  trials  ami  hartlsliips 
of  his  youth.  When  h<-  was  only  thirteen,  the  Uritish  ra\ai;<'d  .South  Carolina, 
killed  his  oldest  hroiher,  liuj^h.  ami  captured  Andrew  and  his  brother  Roliert. 
carrying;  ihiin  oil  with  others  to  L'amden.  forty  miles  distant  from  their  home. 
I  he  ca|)ti\  ts  were  not  allowed  lood  or  even  wat<'r  on  the  wa\'  ;  they  were  throw  11 
into  a  wr<'tched  prison  pen,  uilhout  beds,  medical  attendance,  or  an\'  means  of 
<U*essinL;  their  wounds.  They  were  kept  on  miserable  food,  ami,  to  crown  all, 
small])o\  broke  out  amonn-  them.      1  >_\inL;  ami  dead  lay  on  the  L,''i'<»und  together. 

Iheir  mother  came  to  thi'  rescue  of  her  bovs  ;  she  obtained  their  eNchanj^c, 
took  them  home,  and  nursed  them  :  but'  Robert  died  in  two  davs,  and  Mrs. 
Jackson  hers<'lt  tell  a  victim  to  tin'  disease.  Thus  at  lourteen  vears  of  a^c 
Jackson  was  lelt  alone  in  the  world,  without  father,  mother,  or  brotlu;r,  and 
without  a  dollai'  to  call  his  own. 

liiiore  .\ndrew  had  tulK'  recoxcred  his  streni^th,  he  enten-d  a  shop  to  learn 
the  traile  of  a  saddler:  but  he  became  a  wild,  reckless,  lawless  boy.  lie  drank, 
oambled,  fouL^ht  cocks,  and  was  rej^arded  as  about  the  worst  character  that 
could  anywhere  be  foimd.  .Soon  he  be^an  to  think  of.i  profession,  and  tiecided 
to  stuily  law.  \\  ilh  a  very  slender  purse,  and  on  the  back  of  a  tine  horse,  he 
set  out  lor  .Salisbury  \.  (".,  a  distance  o|  about  seventy  t'lve  miles,  whei'c;  he 
entered  the  law  ottice  of  Mr,  MiCay. 

At  the  iv^v.  of  twcnt)'  |ackson  w.is  a  tall  xoun;^-  man.  stiUuIinL;-  si.x  fi'et  and 
an  inch  in  his  stockings.  1  le  w.is  \fry  slender,  but  remarkably  ilii,;nit"ied  and 
L;racetul  in  his  manmM's,  an  e\(piisite  horseman,  and  (le\-elopinL^',  amidst  his  pro- 
fanity and  numerous  vices,  a  \ein  of  rare  magnanimity.  I  lis  temper  was  fiery 
in  the  extreme  :  but  it  was  said  that  no  man  knew  better  than  .Andrcnv  |ackson 
when  to  <4'et  an^rN',  aiul  when  not.  1  le  was  fond  of  all  roui^h  adventures,  wild 
riding',  camping"  out  ;  lo\cd  a  horse  passionately  ;  ami,  though  sa<j^acions  and 
prudent,  was  bold  in  facing-  dan^'er.  The  (.'xperience  through  which  he  had 
passed  in  the  Revolution  had  made  him  a  \  ery  stanch  re[)ublican. 

I. IKK    IX     Illl.    WILDS    OK     lIANI'.ssKK. 

The  whole  of  that  region  which  we  now  call  Tennessee  was  then  almost  an 
anc;xploreil  wililernt^ss.  It  was  rammed  l)y  bands  of  Indians,  who  IkuI  hvvn  so 
outraged  by  vai^abonds  amoni^'  the  whites  that  they  had  l)ecome  bitterly  hostile. 
There  was  a  small  settlement  of  j)ioneers,  live  hundred  miles  west  of  the;  summit 
of  the  Allei;hanic;s,  near  th<;  prestMit  sit(M)f  Xashville,  on  the  banks  of  the  Cum- 
bi^rland.  Amlrew  Jackson  was  appointeil  public  prosecutor  for  the  remote  dis- 
trict of  Nashville.      It  was  an  ofhce  of  little  honor,  small  emolument,  and  s^reat 


J-JI/GRATIXG  JO  TENNhSSHE. 


<33 


peril.  Few  nii-n  cnuld  he  foiiiul  to  acct  pt  it.  I'arly  in  tlui  sprliii,'' of  17SS 
Jackson  joiiuul  a  [)>iriy  of  iini'^rants,  wlio  i-fii(l(v\<)us(Hl  at  Moi'i^antowii,  llie 
last  ffoniior  SL-ltltMncni  in  Xortii  Carolina.  Tliry  were  all  inountctl  on  horse- 
back, with  their  l)a^L;au;(:  on  |)a(  k  horse-..  In  doiililr  file,  the  loni;  cavalcade 
crossed  the  nioinit.iin-.  hy  an  Indian  trail,  which  had  widened  into  a  ro.id. 

Late  in  ( )clolK:r,  178S.  this  lone-  train  of  cniii^rants  reached  Xashville. 
They  took  with  them  th('  e.xcitin^  news  that  tlu:  new  Constitution  had  l)een 
accepted  hy  a  majority  of  the  States,  and  that  Ceort^c  Washini^ton  would 
undoubtedly  be  electetl  tlu;  lirst  I'residenl.  It  was  estimated  that  then,  in  this 
outpost  of  ci\ili/ation,  tlun-e   were  scattered,  in    lo;^    huts   clustered  alou;.;   the 


A    IWMII.UR    KKNirc-KV    SCINK    IN    JACKSON  S    YiUMIl. 


banks  of  the  Cumberland,  about  five  thousand  souls.  The  Indians  were  so 
active  in  the-ir  hostilities  that  it  was  not  safe  for  any  one  to  li\-e  fu-  from  the 
stockade.  Every  man  took  his  rilh;  with  him  to  the  field.  Children  could  not 
^o  out  to  leather  berries  unless  accompanied  bv  a  i^ruard. 

Xashville  had  its  aristocracy.  Mrs.  Don*.  Isoii  b;  lonnt'd  to  one  of  the  first 
families.  She  was  the  widow  of  Colonel  |ohn  Ponelson,  and  lived  in  a  cabin  of 
hewn  loirs,  the  most  commodious  d welling;'  in  the  place.  She;  hatl  a  beautiful, 
mirth-lovinij  daughter,  who  had  married  a  very  unconj^^enial  Kentuckian,  Lewis 
Robards,  of  whom  but  little  that  is  good  can  be  said.  .She  and  h(;r  husband 
lived  with  her  widowed   mother,  and   Andrew  Jackson  was   received   into  the 


134  ANDREW  JACKSON. 

family  as  a  boarder.  It  was  an  attractive  home  for  him.  Of  the  gay  and  lively 
Mrs.  Robards  it  is  said  that  she  was  then  the  best  story-teller,  the  best  dancer, 
the  sprightliest  companion,  the  most  dashing  horsewoman,  in  the  western 
country. 

And  now  Andrew  Jackson  commenced  vigorously  the  practice  of  law.  It 
was  an  important  part  of  his  business  to  collect  debts.  It  recpiired  nerve. 
Many  desperate  men  carried  pistols  and  knives.  During  the  first  seven  years 
of  his  residence  in  those  wilds,  he  traversed  the  almost  pathless  forest  between 
Nashville  and  Jonesborough,  a  distance  of  two  hundred  miles,  twenty-two  times. 
Hostile  Indians  were  constantly  on  the  watch,  and  a  man  was  liable  at  any 
moment  to  be  shot  down  in  his  own  field.  Andrew  Jackson  was  just  the  man 
for  this  service, — a  wild,  rough,  daring  backwoodsman.  Daily  he  was  making 
hairbreadth  escapes.  He  seemed  to  bear  a  charmed  life.  Boldly,  alone  or 
with  few  companions,  he  traversed  the  forests,  encountering  all  perils,  and 
triumphing  over  all. 

Mrs.  Robards  and  her  husband  lived  unhappily  together.  Before  Jackson's 
arrival,  he  had  once,  from  his  jealous  disposition,  separated  from  her.  Andrew 
Jackson  was  an  exceedingly  polite,  gallant,  fascinating  man.  Captain  Robards 
became  jealous  of  Jackson,  and  treated  Mrs.  Robards  with  great  cruelty.  Jack- 
son decided,  in  consequence,  to  leave  the  house,  and  took  board  in  another 
place.  Soon  after  this,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Robards  separated.  The  affair  caused 
Andrew  Jackson  great  uneasiness ;  for  though  he  knew  that  the  pardes  had 
separated  once  before,  and  though  conscious  of  innocence,  he  found  himself  to 
be  the  unfortunate  cause  of  the  present  scandal. 

Captain  Robards  applied  to  the  Legislature  of  Virginia  for  a  bill  of  divorce. 
It  was  granted  by  an  act  of  the  Legislature,  provided  that  the  Supreme  Court 
should  adjudge  that  there  was  catise  for  sucJi  divorce.  Robards  laid  aside  this 
act  and  did  nothing  for  two  years.  Virginia  was  far  away.  The  transmission 
of  intelligence  was  very  slow.  It  was  announced  in  Nashville  that  Robards  had 
obtained  a  divorce.  This  was  universally  believed.  Inlluenced  by  this  belief, 
Andrew  Jackson  and  Rachel  Robards  were  married  in  the  fall  of  1791. 

Two  years  after  this,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Jackson  learned,  to  their  great  surprise, 
that  Robards  had  then  only  just  obtained  a  divorce.  Thus  Mr.  Jackson  had,  in 
reality,  been  married  for  two  years  to  another  man's  wife,  though  neither  he  nor 
Mrs.  Jackson  had  been  guilty  of  the  slightest  intentional  wrong.  To  remedy 
the  irregularity  as  far  as  possible,  a  new  license  was  obtained,  and  the  marriage 
ceremony  was  again  performed. 

It  proved  to  be  a  marriage  of  rare  felicity.  Probably  there  never  was  a 
more  affectionate  union.  However  rough  Mr.  Jackson  might  have  been  abroad, 
he  was  always  gentle  and  tender  at  home  ;  and  through  all  the  vicissitudes  of 
their  lives,  he  treated  Mrs.  Jackson  with  the  most  chivalric  attentions.     He  was 


SENA  TOR  AND  JUDGIi.  \  3  5 

always  very  sensitive  upon  the  question  of  his  marriage.  No  one  could  breathe 
a  word  which  rellccted  a  suspicion  upon  the  purity  of  this  affair  but  at  the  risk 
of  a  bullet  through  his  brain. 

OI.n-FASHIONED    POLITICS. 

In  January,  1796,  the  territory  of  Tennessee  then  containing  nearly  eighty 
thousand  inhabitants,  the  people  met  in  convention  at  Knoxville  to  frame  a 
constitution.  Five  were  sent  from  each  of  the  eleven  counties.  Andrew 
Jackson  was  one  of  the  delegates  from  Davidson  County.  They  met  in  a  shabby 
building  in  a  grove  outside  of  the  city.  It  was  fitted  up  for  the  occasion  at  an 
expense  of  twelve  dollars  and  sixty-two  cents.  The  members  were  entitled  to 
two  dollars  and  a  half  a  day.  They  voted  to  receive  but  a  dollar  and  a  half, 
that  the  other  dollar  might  go  to  the  payment  of  secretary,  printer,  door- 
keeper, etc.  A  constitution  was  formed,  which  was  regarded  as  very  demo- 
cratic;  and  in  June,  1796,  Tennessee  became  the  sixteenth  State  in  the  I'nion. 
The  new  State  was  entitled  to  but  one  member  in  the  national  House  of  Repre- 
sentatives. Andrew  Jackson  was  chosen  that  member.  Mounting  his  horse, 
he  rode  to  Philadelphia,  where  Congress  then  held  its  sessions, — a  distance 
of  eight  hundred  miles. 

A  vacancy  chanced  soon  after  to  occur  in  the  Senate,  ai;d  Andrew  Jackson 
was  chosen  United  .States  Senator  by  the  State  of  Tennessee.  John  Adams 
was  then  President ;  Thomas  Jefferson,  Vice-President.  Many  years  after,  when 
Mr.  Jefferson  had  retired  from  the  presidential  chair,  and  Andrew  Jackson  was 
candidate  for  the  presidency,  Daniel  Webster  spent  some  days  at  the  home  of 
the  sage  of  Monticello.     He  represents  Mr,  Jefferson  as  saying  : — 

"  I  feel  much  alarmed  at  the  prospect  of  seeing  General  Jackson  President. 
He  is  one  of  the  most  unfit  men  I  know  of  foi  such  a  place.  He  has  very 
little  respect  for  law  or  constitutions,  and  is,  in  fact,  merely  an  able  military 
chief  His  passions  are  terrible.  When  I  was  president  of  the  .Senate  he  was 
senator  ;  and  he  could  never  speak  on  account  of  the  rashness  of  his  feelings. 
I  have  seen  him  attem[)t  it  repeatedly,  and  as  often  choke  with  rage.  His 
passions  are  no  doubt  cooler  now.  He  has  been  much  tried  since  I  knew 
him  ;  but  he  is  a  dangerous  man." 

In  1 798  Mr.  Jackson  returned  to  Tennessee  and  resigned  his  seat  in  the 
Senate.  Soon  after  he  was  chosen  judge  of  the  Supreme  Court  of  that  State, 
with  a  salary  of  six  hundred  dollars.  This  office  he  held  for  six  years.  It 
is  said  that  his  decisions,  though  sometimes  ungrammatical,  were  generally 
right. 

Judge  Jackson  did  not  enjoy  his  seat  upon  the  bench,  and  renounced  the 
dignity  In  the  summer  of  1804.  About  this  time  he  decided  to  try  his  fortune 
through  trade.     He  purchased  a  stock  of  goods  in  Philadelphia,  s>Uit  them  to 


1 30  ANDRE  W  JA  CA'SOX. 

Pittsburi;!!  by  wa^on,  down  the  ( )hi()  to  I.ouisxillc  in  llat-boats,  thence  by 
wai^ons  or  pack-horses  to  Nashville,  where  lu;  opeiieel  a  store,  lie  lived  about 
thirteen  niiU^s  Ironi  Nashville,  on  a  tract  of  land  of  st;\eral  thousand  acres, 
mostly  uncultivated.  1  le  us(xl  a  small  block-house  for  his  store,  from  a  narrow 
viiulow  of  which  he  sold  i^ootls  to  the  Indians. 

In  |acks(jn's  early  lite  he  foui_;ht  numerous  duels,  and  took  part  in  l)rawl<i 
almost  without  ULimber.  One  of  tlu;  most  notorious  of  his  (.luels  was  one  with 
Charles  1  )ii'kiiison,  who  was  also  a  lawyer,  and  a  dealer  in  countr\-  produce. 
Jackson  chalK;nm;(l  him  and  insisted  upon  an  immetliate  ti^'ht.  The  meetinu 
was  appointed  at  seven  o'clock  in  the  morning-  of  Iriday,  May  30,  1S06.  I)ick 
enson  had  a  \ouni^-  and  beautiful  wife  and  an  infant  child,  and  was  said  to  have 
been  a  very  aniiabU^  man.  Ihev  met  in  a  ^rove.  Dickenson  i^ot  iIk;  first  fir(.'. 
I  lis  ball  l)r(jkc:  a  rib,  and  L;lanced,  l(.'a\  ini_;'  a  bad  but  not  dangerous  wound. 
Jackson  then  look  deliberate  aim.  1  )ickenson,  appalled  by  the  certain  death 
which  awaitc;d  him,  recoiled  a  step  or  two.  "  ISack  to  the  inafk,  sir!"  shouted 
lackson's  second.  1  he  unhappy  man  took  his  stand.  Ai^ain  [ackson  raised 
his  [jistol  with  calm,  cK-termined  aim,  antl  pulled  tlu;  trii^i^er.  The  pistol  ilid 
not  1^0  otf  I  le  examined  it,  and  fouml  that  it  had  stoppetl  at  half-cock.  Re- 
adjusting' it,  he  aL;ain  look  cool,  cart'ful  aim,  and  fired.  1  )ickenson  rt^eletl  and 
fell.  The  Ijail  had  |)assc:d  throuidi  his  l)ody,  just  aboxt;  the  hips.  Jackson 
and  his  party  rc;tired,  leaviiii;-  the  dyin.i;'  man  in  the  hands  of  his  friends.  All 
day  Ion*;-  he  suffered  at^'onx',  and  in  tlu;  (.neiiinu;'  died.  The  nc^.xt  tlay  his  frantic 
wife,  hurrying'  to  his  n'lief  met  a  wai^on  convt-yin^'  back  to  Nashxille  his  re- 
mains. 1  )ickenson  was  a  L;reat  faxoritc;  in  Naslnille,  antl  his  untimely  death 
excited  ])r()found  sympathy,  bor  a  time  this  affair  greatly  iniured  (icnieral 
Jackson's  jjopularity.      If  he  ever  felt  any  remorse,  he  ne\(M-  re\eaU;d  it. 

deneral  Jackson  now  withdrew  from  commercial  pursuits,  which  he  had  not 
found  very  profitable,  ami  devoted  himself  to  the  culture  of  his  plantation. 
i  lis  home  was  a  very  happy  one.  Mrs.  Jackson  was  an  excellent  manager,  and 
one  of  the  most  cheerful  and  entertaining'  of  companions.  .She  had  a  strong 
mind,  much  intelligence,  but  very  litlU:  culture.  They  had  no  children,  but 
adoptetl  a  son  of  one  of  Mrs.  [ackson's  sisters.  This  boy  became  the  pride, 
the  )o\-,  tlu;  hope;  of  the  Licneral's  life.  .Soon  after,  he  received  another  little 
nephew  into  his  family,  whom  he  nurtured  and  educated.  It  is  said  that  this 
•vonderfuUy  irascit)le  man  was  never  even  inipaticiit  with  wife;,  children,  or 
servants, 

A  youiiL;-  friend  of  lackson,  by  the  name  of  William  Carroll,  challenged 
Jesse  Iienton,  a  younger  brother  of  L'oloncd  Thomas  II.  lU'nton,  to  a  duel. 
Jackson,  then  forty-six  years  of  a^c  somewhat  reluctantly  actt;d  as  second  to 
Carroll.  Both  parties  were  wounded,  youn^'  Iienton  (juito  scverel)'.  This 
roused  the  indignation  of  Colonel  Thomas  li.  Benton,  who  had  conlerrt'd  some 


AFl-RAV  WITH  Till:  BEX  TONS. 


137 


si!:^nal  favors  on  Jackson,  and  he  vowc^tl  vcnLicancc.  M(H;ting'  tlie  Benton 
brothers  soon  aft(;r  at  a  Nashville  hotel,  a  bloody  aUray  followed,  in  which 
Jackson's  arm  and   shouldt-r  were   horribly  shattered  by  two   balls  and  a  slug 


TUK    INDIAN  S    m-.CI.ARATION    dl"    WAR 


from  the  pistol  of  lesse  Renton.    Jackson's 

wounds  w(M"e  very  severe.     While  he  was 

lino^erinLif.  ha,f,rtj;-ard  and  wan,  upon  a  bed  of  sufferlnLT.  news  came  that  the  Indians, 

who  had  combintnl  under  'r<Humseh,  from  I'dorida  to  the  Lakes,  to  exterminate 

the  white  settlers,  were  committintj   the  most  awful  ravages.      Decisive  action 


138  ANDREW  JACKSON. 

became  necessary.  General  Jackson,  with  his  fractured  bones  just  bei^inning  to 
heal,  his  arm  in  a  slin(r,  antl  unable  to  mount  his  horse  without  assistance,  ^ave 
his  amazini^  enert,nes  to  the  raising  of  an  army  to  rendezvous  at  Fayetteville, 
on  the  borders  of  Alabama,  on  the  4th  of  October,  181 3. 

ricirnxG  tiii::  Indians. 

The  Creek  Indians  had  established  a  strong  fort  on  one  of  the  bends  of  the 
Tallapoosa  River,  near  the  centre  of  Alabama,  about  fifty  miles  below  Fort 
Strother,  With  an  army  of  two  thousand  men.  General  Jackson  traversed  the 
pathless  W'ilderness  in  a  march  of  eleven  days.  He  reached  their  fort,  called 
Tohopeka,  or  Horseshoe,  on  the  27th  of  March,  1814.  The  bend  of  the  river 
inclosed  nearly  one  hundred  acres  of  tangled  forest  and  wild  ravine.  Across 
the  narrow  neck  the  Indians  had  constructed  a  formidable  breastwork  of  Iocs 
and  brush.  Here  nine  hundred  warriors,  with  an  ample  supply  of  arms  and 
ammunition,  were  assembled. 

The  fort  was  stormed.  The  fight  was  utterly  desperate.  Not  an  Indian 
would  accept  of  quarter.  When  bleeding  and  dying,  they  would  fight  those 
who  endeavored  to  spare  their  lives.  From  ten  in  the  morning  until  dark  the 
battle  rag(Hl.  The  carnage  was  awful  antl  revolting.  Some  threw  themselves 
into  the  river  ;  but  tlie  unerring  bullet  struck  their  heads  as  they  swam.  Nearly 
every  one  of  tlie  nine  hundred  warriors  was  killed.  A  few  probably.  In  the 
night,  swam  the  river  and  escaped.  This  ended  the  war.  The  power  of  the 
Creeks  was  broken  forever.  This  bold  plunge  into  the  wilderness,  with  its  ter- 
rific slaughter,  so  appalled  the  savages,  that  the  haggard  remnants  of  the  bands 
came  to  the  camp,  begging  for  peace. 

This  closing  of  the  Creek  war  enabled  us  to  concentrate  our  militia  upon 
the  British,  who  were  the  allies  of  the  Indians.  Immediately,  on  the  31st  of 
May,  Jackson  was  appointed  major-general  in  the  army  of  the  United  States. 
This  gave  him  an  Income  of  between  six  and  seven  thousand  dollars  a  year,  and 
made  him,  for  those  times,  a  rich  man.  No  man  of  less  resolute  will  than  Gen- 
eral Jackson  could  have  conducted  this  Indian  campaign  to  so  successful  an 
issue.  Through  the  whole  Indian  campaign  he  suffered  terribly  from  the  w^ounds 
and  debility  occasioned  by  his  senseless  feud  with  Colonel  Benton.  He  was 
pale  and  haggard  and  pain-worn,  often  enduring  the  extreme  of  agony.  Not 
many  men,  suffering  as  he  did,  would  have  been  out  of  the  sick  chamber. 

Immediately  upon  the  fall  of  Napoleon,  in  18 14,  the  British  Cabinet  decided 
to  strike  America  a  crushing  blow.  It  was  their  plan  to  take  New  Orleans,  lay 
all  our  seaport  towns  In  ashes,  annihilate  our  navy,  and,  by  holding  the  Atlantic, 
the  Mississippi,  and  the  Lakes,  to  imprison  us  In  our  forests.  The  British  were 
at  Pensacola  and  Appalachlcola,  dispensing  arms  to  the  Indians  In  that  region, 
and  preparing  for  their  grand  naval  and  land  expedition  to  New  Orleans.    Most 


DEFENSE  OF  NEW  ORLEANS. 


139 


of  the  hostile  Indians,  tlyinsj;'  from  the  tremendous  l^lows  which.  General  Jackson 
had  dealt  them,  had  also  taken  refutjj^e  in  Morida.  Jackson,  far  awaj'  in  the 
wilderness,  was  left  to  act  almost  without  instructions.  He  decided  to  take 
the  responsibility,  and  assumed  the  independence  of  a  sovereign. 

The  whole  .South  and  West  were  fully  aroused  to  meet  and  repel  the  foe. 
Hy  the  1st  of  November  General  Jackson  had  in  Mobile  an  army  of  four  thou- 
sand men.  He  resolved  to  march  upon  I'ensacola,  where  the  .Spaniards  were 
sheltering;  our  foes,  and,  as  he  expressed  it,  ••  rout  out  the  linglish."  He 
advanced  upon  Pensacola,  stormed  the  town,  took  possession  of  every  fort,  and 
drove  the  British  lleet  out  to  sea.  Garrisoning'  Mobile,  he  moved  his  troops  to 
New  Orleans,  a  distance  of  one  hundred  and  seventy  miles.  General  Jackson 
himself  was  so  feeble  that  he  could  ride  but  seventeen  miles  a  day.  I  le  reached 
New  Orleans 
the  I  St  of  De-  ».*'...^.-^J«_ 
cember.  New 
Orleans  at  that 
time  contained 
about  twenty 
thousand  in- 
habitants. Ev- 
ery available 
man  in  the 
place  and  coun- 
try near  was 
brought  into 
service. 

A  British 
fleet  of  sixty 
ships,  many  of 
them  of  the  first 

class,  and  which  had  obtained  renown  in  the  na\ai  conflicts  of  Trafalgar  and  the 
Nile,  was  assembled  in  a  spacious  bay  on  the  western  entl  of  the  Island  of 
Jamaica.  This  fleet,  which  carried  a  thousand  cannon,  was  manned  by  nearly 
nine  thousand  soldiers  and  marines,  and  transported  a  land  force  of  ten  thou- 
sand veteran  soldiers,  fresh  from  the  wars  of  luirope,  and  flushed  with  victory 
over  Napoleon.  The  fleet  entered  Lake  Borgne,  a  shallow  bay  oj^ening  into 
the  Gulf  of  Mexico  near  New  Orleans,  on  the  loth  of  December,  18 14.  There 
were  five  small  cutters  in  the  lake,  which  were  soon  overpowered  by  the  im- 
mense force  of  the  foe.  Unaware  how  feeble  was  General  Jackson's  force, 
they  did  not  deem  it  prudent  to  move  upon  the  city  until  they  had  greatly 
increased  their  numbers.     This  delay  probably  saved  New  Orleans. 


TIIK    HI, I)    MAKK;NY    1R)LSK,  a    RKI.IC    1)1'    TllK    WAR    ol'    iSl.;. 


1 40  .1  XDRIi  W  JA  CKSOX. 

At  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  of  tlnj  231!,  General  Jackson  learned  that 
the  foe,  marchini^  from  Lake  Bor_t,me,  were  within  a  few  miles  (jf  the  city.  He 
immediately  coUectetl  his  motley  force;  of  youni^''  farmers  and  mechanics,  about 
two  thousand  in  numijer,  and  marched  to  mtn-t  thiMii.  lie  fell  upon  them  im- 
petuously in  a  ni,L,dit  attack,  checked  their  [)roL;ress,  and  drove  them  hack  toward 
their  landinL,''-place.  The  British,  surprised  by  the  fury  of  the  assault,  waited 
for  reinforcements,  which  came  up  in  large  numbers  during  the  night. 

'rill-;  oKKAT  vici'uRv  .\r  new  ()Ki.i:.\ns. 

Pakenham,  on  the  2Sth,  pushed  his  veteran  battalions  forward  on  a  recon- 
noissance,  and  to  sweep,  if  possible,  oxer  (General  lackson's  unt'mished  breast- 
work. It  was  a  brilliant  morning.  Jackson,  an  old  borrowed  telescope  in 
his  hand,  was  on  the;  watch.  The  solid  columns  of  red-coats  came  on,  in 
military  array,  as  beautiful  as  awe-inspiring.  The  artillery  led,  heralding-  the 
advance  with  a  shower  of  Coiigreve  rockets,  round  shot,  and  shell.  The 
muske;ts  of  the  infantry  llash(;tl  like  mirrors  in  the  light  of  the  morning  sun. 
The  P)ritons  wc;re  in  high  glee;.  It  was  absurd  to  suppose  that  a  few  thousand 
raw  militia  could  resist  the  veterans  who  had  conquered  the  armies  of 
Napoleon. 

General  Jackson  had  not  quite  three  thousand  men  liehind  his  breastwork; 
but  every  one  had  imbibed  the  spirit  of  his  chieftain.  There  were  eight  thou- 
sand veteran  soldiers  marching  u|Jon  them.  For  a  few  hours  there  were  the 
tumult,  the  horror,  the  carnage  of  a  battle  ;  and  then  die  British  host  seemed 
to  have  melted  away.  With  shattered  ranks,  leaving  their  dead  behind  them, 
a  second  time  they  retreated.  A  third  attack,  on  January  ist,  had  the  same 
result. 

On  Friday,  the  6th,  General  Jackson  became  assured  that  the  enemy  was 
preparing  to  attack  him  on  both  sides  of  the  river.  At  half  an  hour  before 
dawn,  .Sunday  morning,  January  8,  1S15,  a  rocket  from  the  hostile  lines  gave 
the  signal  for  the  attack.  In  two  solid  columns,  the  British  advanced  upon  our 
ramparts,  which  w(;re  bristling  with  infantry  and  ardllery,  and  behind  which 
General  lackson  had  now  collected  an  army  of  about  four  thousand  men,  all 
inspiretl  with  the  zeal  of  th(;ir  commander. 

Our  men  were  well  i)rotected.  With  bare  bosoms,  the  British  marched 
upon  the  embankment,  from  which  there  was  poured  forth  an  incessant  storm  of 
bullets,  balls,  and  shells,  which  no  llesh  and  blood  could  stand.  It  was  one  of 
the  most  awful  scenes  of  slaughter  which  was  ever  witnessed.  Every  bullet 
accomplished  its  mission,  spentling  its  force  in  the  bodies  of  those  who  were 
insanely  driven  forward  to  inevitable  death.  Two  hundred  men  were  cut  down 
by  one  discharge  of  a  thirty-two  pounder,  loaded  to  the  muzzle  with  musket- 
balls,  and  poured  into  the  head  of  a  column  at  the  distance  of  but  a  few  yards. 


A  SrLL.\D/I)   VICIORY. 


141 


Rerriments  vanished,  a  15ritish  otTiccr  said,  "as  if  the  oarth  had  opi-ncHl  and 
swaUowcd  them  iip."  'V\\v.  AmcTican  Hnc:  looked  hke  a  row  of  ticry  furnaces. 
General  Jackson  \valk(;d  slowly  alonjr  his  ranks,  cheering:  his  men,  and  saying-; — 

"Stand  to  your  trains  !  Don't  waste  your  ammunition!  See  that  every 
shot  tells  I      Let  us  fmish  the;  business  today  !  " 

Two  hours  |)ass(!d,  and  the  work  was  done, — effectually  done.  As  the 
smoke   lifted^    the  whole   proud   array 


K  .    I 


lisapf 


)e; 


ar(;d.      Tb.e   i/round   was    so 


AN    IMUAS    i:i;lir    IS    ll.iiRIDA. 


covered  with  the  dyini^-  and  the  dead,  that,  for  a  quarter  of  a  mile;  in  front,  one 
mit,dit  walk  upon  their  bodies  ;  anil,  far  away  in  the  distanct',  tlie  retre-alin^'  lines 
of  the  foe  were  to  be  seen.     On  both  sides  of  the  river  the  enemy  was  repulsed. 

The  British  had  about  nine  thousand  in  the  ene^at^^niment,  and  we  but 
about  four  thousand.  Thinr  loss  in  killed  and  wounded  was  two  thousand  six 
hundred,  while  ours  was  but  thirteen.  Thus  ended  the  great  battle  of  New 
Orleans. 

In  those  days  intelligence  traveled  so  slowly  that  it  was  not  until  the;  4th  of 
9 


142 


ANDREW  JA  CKSON. 


February  that  tidings  of  the  victory  reached  Washington.  The  whole  country 
blazed  with  illuminations,  and  rang  with  rejoicings.  Ten  days  after  this,  news 
of  the  Treaty  of  Ghent  was  received,  signed  before  the  battle  took  place. 

Jackson  now  returned  to  Nashville,  and  honors  were  poured  on  him  with- 
out number.  Me  still  retained  his  command  of  the  southern  division  of  the 
army.  The  Seminole  Indians  in  Morida  were  committing  outrages  upon  our 
frontiers.  General  Jackson  gathered  an  army  of  over  two  thousand  men,  and, 
regardless  of  treaties,  marched  into  I'lorida,  punished  the  Indians  severely, 
attacked   a  Spanish  post,    shot  by  court-martial    a  Scotchman,  and  hung  an 

Englishman  accused  of  inciting 
the  Indians  to  insurrection.  His 
energy,  and  disregard  of  treaties 
and  the  forms  of  law,  were  de- 
nounced by  one  party  and  com- 
mended by  another.  He  was, 
however,  sustained  by  Congress 
and  the  President ;  and,  after  the 
purchase  of  Florida  from  Spain. 
General  Jackson  was  appointed 
governor  of  the  newly  acquired 
territory. 

SEN.\TOR    AND    PRESIDENT. 

For  some  reason  he  soon 
became  tired  of  his  office,  and, 
resigning  it,  again  retired  to  his 
farm  and  his  humble  home  in 
Tennessee.  His  name  soon  be- 
gan to  be  brought  forward  as 
that  of  a  candidate  for  the  presi- 
dency of  the  United  States.  In 
the  autumn  of  1S23  he  was  elected,  by  the  Tennessee  Legislature,  United 
States  Senator.  In  the  stormy  electoral  canvass  of  1824,  which  resulted  in 
the  choice  of  John  Ouincy  Adams  by  the  House  of  Representatives,  General 
Jackson  received  a  larger  number  of  electoral  votes  than  either  of  his  com- 
petitors. The  Democratic  party  now  with  great  unanimity  fixed  upon  him  to 
succeed  Mr.  Adams.  In  the  campaign  of  1S28  he  was  triumphantly  elected 
President  of  the  United  States.  In  1829,  just  before  he  assumed  the  reins  of 
government,  he  met  with  the  most  terrible  affliction  of  his  life  in  the  death  of 
his  wife,  whom  he  had  loved  with  devotion  which  has  perhaps  never  been  sur- 
passed.    From  the  shock  of  her  death  he  never  recovered. 


MARTIN   VAN    lUIREN. 


RETIREMENT  AND  DEATH.  ,43 

He  ever  afterward  appeareil  like  a  changed  man.  He  became  subdued 
in  spirit,  and,  except  when  his  terrible  temper  had  been  greatly  aroused,  seldom 
used  profane  language.  It  is  said  that  every  night  afterward,  until  his  own 
death,  he  read  a  prayer  from  his  wife's  prayer-book,  with  her  miniature  likeness 
before  him. 

His  administration  was  one  of  the  most  memorable  in  the  annals  of  our 
country  ;  applauded  by  one  party,  condemned  by  the  other.  No  man  had  more 
bitter  enemies  or  warmer  frientls.  It  is,  however,  undeniable  that  m'any  ot  the 
acts  of  his  administration,  which  were  at  the  time  most  unsparingly  denounced, 
are  now  generally  commended.  With  all  his  glaring  faults,  he\'as  a  sincere 
patriot,  honestly  seeking  the  good  of  his  country.  With  the  masses  of  the 
people,  Andrew  Jackson  was  the  most  popular  President,  with  possibly  the 
exceptions  of  Washington  and  Lincoln,  who  ever  occupied  the  chair.  At  the 
e.xpiradon  of  his  two  terms  of  office,  he  retired,  in  1S37,  to  the  "  Hermitage," 
his  Tennessee  home,  resigning  his  office  at  Washington  to  his  friend  and  sup- 
porter, Martin  Van  Buren. 

His  sufferings  from  sickness  during  the  last  years  of  his  life  were  dreadful ; 
but  he  bore  them  with  the  greatest  fortitude,  never  uttering  a  complaining  word.' 
On  Sunday  morning,  June  8th,  1S45,  it  was  seen  that  his  last  hour  had  come. 
He  assembled  all  his  family  around  him,  and,  in  the  most  affecting  manner,  took 
leave  of  each  one.  "He  then,"  writes  one  who  was  present,  -delivered  one 
of  the  most  impressive  lectures  on  the  subject  of  religion  that  I  have  ever 
heard.  ^  He  spoke  for  nearly  half  an  hour,  and  apparently  with  the  power  of 
inspiration."  Soon  after  this  he  suddenly,  and  without  a  struggle,  ceased  to 
breathe.  Two  days  after  he  was  placed  in  a  grave  by  the  side  of  his  wife.  He 
had  often  said,  "  Heaven  will  be  no  heaven  to  me  if  1  do  not  meet  mv  wife 
there."  ^ 


THE    SECOND    WAR    FOR    INDEPENDENCE,   OR   THE    WAR 

OF    1812. 

<:J\  their  first  war  with  Great  Britain  our  forefathers  asserted  and 
maintained  their  right  to  independent  national  existence;  by 
their  second  war  with  Great  Britain,  they  claimed  and  obtained 
equal  consideration  in  international  affairs.  The  War  of  1812 
was  not  based  on  a  single  cause ;  it  was  ratiicr  undertaken  from 
mixed  motives, — partly  political,  pardy  commercial,  partly  pa- 
triotic. It  was  always  unpopular  with  a  great  number  of  the 
American  people  ;  it  was  far  from  logical  in  some  of  its  posi- 
tions ;  it  was  perhaps  precipitated  by  party  clamor.  But,  despite  all  these  facts, 
it  remains  true  that  this  war  established  once  for  all  the  position  of  the  United 
States  as  an  equal  power  among  the  powers.  Above  all — clearing  away  the 
petty  political  and  partisan  aspects  of  the  struggle — vve  find  that  in  it  the  United 
States  stood  for  a  strong,  sound,  and  universally  beneficial  principle — that  of  the 
rights  of  neutral  nations  in  time  of  war.  "Free  ships  make  free  goods"  is  a 
maxim  of  international  law  now  universally  recognized,  but  at  the  opening  of  the 
century  it  was  a  theory,  supported,  indeed,  by  good  reasoning,  but  practically 
disregarded  by  the  most  powerful  nations.  It  was  almost  solely  to  the  stand  taken 
by  the  United  States  in  181 2  that  the  final  settlement  of  the  disputed  principle 
was  due. 

The  cause  of  the  War  of  181 2  which  appealed  most  strongly  to  the  patriotic 
feelings  of  the  common  people,  though,  perhaps,  not  in  itself  so  intrinsically  im- 
portant as  that  just  referred  to,  was  unquestionably  the  impressment  by  Great 
Britain  of  sailors  from  American  ships.  No  doubt  great  numbers  of  English 
sailors  did  desert  from  their  naval  vessels  and  take  refuge  in  the  easier  service 
and  better  treatment  of  the  American  merchant  ships.  Great  Britain  was  strain- 
ing every  nerve  to  strengthen  her  already  powerful  navy,  and  the  press-gang 
was  constantly  at  work  in  English  sea-ports.  Once  on  board  a  Bridsh  man-of- 
war,  the  impressed  sailor  was  subject  to  overwork,  bad  radons,  and  the  lash. 
That  British  sailors  fought  as  gallantly  as  they  did  under  this  regime  will  always 
remain  a  wonder.     But  it  is  certain  that  they  deserted  in  considerable  numbers, 

144 


THE  "CHESAPEAKE"  OUTRAGE.  I45 

and  that  they  found  in  the  rapidly-growini^-  commercial  prosperity  of  our  carry- 
ing trade  a  tempting  chance  of  enii)loyment.  Now,  Great  Britain,  with  a  large 
contempt  for  the  naval  weakness  of  the  United  States,  assumed,  rather  than 
claimed,  the  right  to  stop  our  merchant  vessels  on  the  high  seas,  to  examine  the 
crews,  and  to  claim  as  her  own  any  British  sailors  among  them.  I'his  was  bad 
enough  in  itself,  but  the  way  in  which  the  search  was  carried  out  was  worse. 
Every  form  of  insolence  and  overbearing  was  exhibited.  The  pretense  of  claim- 
ing British  deserters  covered  what  was  sometimes  barefaced  and  outrageous 
kidnaping  of  Americans.  The  British  officers  ivent  so  far  as  to  lay  the  burden  of 
proof  of  nationality  in  each  case  upon  the  sailor  himself;  if  he  were  without 
papers  proving  his  identity  he  was  at  once  assumed  to  be  a  British  subject.  To 
such  an  extent  was  this  insult  to  our  flao;  carried  that  our  Government  had  the 
record  of  about  forty-five  hundred  cases  of  impressment  from  our  ships  between 
the  years  of  1S03  and  18 10;  and  when  the  War  of  1S12  broke  out  the  number 
of  American  sailors  serving  against  their  will  in  British  war  vessels  was  variously 
computed  to  be  from  six  to  fourteen  thousand.  It  is  even  recorded  that  in  some 
cases  American  ships  were  obliged  to  return  home  in  the  middle  of  their  voyages 
because  their  crews  had  been  so  diminished  in  number  by  the  seizures  made  by 
British  officers  that  they  w-ere  too  short-handed  to  proceed.  In  not  a  few  cases 
these  depreciations  led  to  bloodshed.  The  greatest  outrage  of  all,  and  one  which 
stirred  the  blood  of  Americans  to  the  fighting  point,  was  the  capture  of  an  Ameri- 
can war  vessel,  the  "Chesapeake,"  by  the  British  man-of-war,  the  "Leopard." 
The  latter  was  by  far  the  more  powerful  vessel,  and  the  "Chesapeake"  was  quite 
unprepared  for  action ;  nevertheless,  her  commander  refused  to  accede  to  a 
demand  that  his  crew  be  overhauled  in  search  Or  British  deserters.  Thereupon 
the  "Leopard"  poured  broadside  after  b'"oadside  into  her  until  the  (lag  was 
struck.  Three  Americans  were  killed  and  eighteen  wounded ;  four  were  taken 
away  as  alleged  deserters;  of  these,  three  were  afterwards  returned,  while  in 
one  case  the  charge  was  satisfactorily  proved  and  the  man  was  hanged.  The 
whole  affair  was  widiout  the  slightest  justification  under  the  law  of  nations  and 
was  in  itself  ample  ground  for  war.  Great  Britain,  however,  in  a  quite  ungrace- 
ful and  tardy  way,  apologized  and  offered  reparation.  This  incident  took  place 
six  years  before  the  actual  declaration  of  war.  But  the  outrage  rankled  all  that 
time,  and  nothing  did  more  to  fan  the  anti-Briush  feeling  which  was  already  so 
strong  in  the  rank  and  file,  especially  in  the  Democratic  (or,  as  it  was  often  called 
then,  Republican)  party.  It  was  such  deeds  as  this  that  led  Henry  Clay  to 
exclaim,  "  Not  content  with  seizing  upon  all  our  property  which  falls  within 
her  rapacious  grasp,  the  personal  rights  of  our  countrymen — rights  which  must 
forever  be  sacred — are  trampled  on  and  violated  by  the  impressment  of  our 
seamen.  What  are  we  to  gain  by  war?  What  are  we  not  to  lose  by  peace? 
Commerce,  character,  a  nation's  best  treasure,  honor  I  " 


146 


STORY  OF  THE  WAR  OF  1S12. 


The  attack  on  American  commcrcL*  was  also  a  serious  danger  to  peace.  In 
the  early  years  of  the  century  Great  Britain  was  at  war  not  only  with  France, 
but  with  other  European  countries.  Both  Great  Britain  and  France  adopted  in 
practice  the  most  extreme  theories  of  non-intercourse  between  neutral  and 
hostile  nations.  It  was  the  era  of  "paper  blockades."  In  1S06  England,  for 
instance,  declared  that  eight  hundred   miles  ol   the  European  coast  were  to  be 


VIEW   UK   A   COTTUN-CHUTE. 


considered  blockaded,  whereupon  Napoleon,  not  to  be  outdone,  declared  the 
entire  Islands  of  Great  Britain  to  be  under  blockade.  Up  to  a  certain  point  the 
interruption  of  the  neutral  trade  relations  between  the  countries  of  Europe  was 
to  the  commercial  advantage  of  America.  Our  carrying  trade  grew  and  pros- 
pered wonderfully.  Much  of  this  trade  consisted  in  taking  goods  from  the  colo- 
nies of  European  nations,  bringing  them  to  the  United  States,  then  trans-ship- 
ping them  and  conveying  them  to  the  parent  nation.     This  was  allowable  under 


DliSTRUCr/OX  OF  COMMERCE.  147 

the  international  law  of  tlic  liino,  although  the  direct  carrying  of  goods  by  the 
neutral  ship  from  the  colony  to  the  parent  nation  (the  latter,  of  course,  being  at 
war)  was  forbidden.  I'ut  by  her  famous  "Orders  in  Council  "  Ceat  Britain  ab- 
solutely forljade  this  system  of  trans-shipment  as  to  nations  widi  whom  she  was 
at  war.  American  vessels  engagetl  in  this  form  of  trade  were  seized  and  con- 
d(;mned  by  English  prize  courts.  Naturally,  France  followed  Cireat  Britain's 
example  and  even  went  further.  Our  merchants,  who  had  actually  been  earning 
double  freights  under  the  old  system,  now  found  that  their  commerce  was  wofully 
restricted.  At  first  it  was  thought  that  the  unfair  restriction  might  be  punished 
by  retaliatory  measures,  and  a  quite  illogical  analogy  was  duiwn  fnjm  the  effect 
produced  on  Great  Britain  before  the  Revolution  by  the  reinsal  of  the  colonies 
to  receive  goods  on  which  a  tax  had  beer  imposed.  .So  President  Jefferson's 
Administration  resorted  to  the  most  unwise  measure  that  could  be  thought  of — 
an  absolute  embargo  on  our  own  ships.  This  measure  was  passed  in  1S07,  and 
its  immediate  result  was  to  reduce  the  exports  of  the  country  from  nearly  fifty 
million  dollars' wordi  to  nine  million  dollars' wordi  in  a  single  year.  This  was 
cvidendy  anything  but  profitaljle,  and  die  act  was  changed  so  as  to  forbid  only 
commercial  intercourse  with  Great  Britain  and  I'rance  and  their  colonies,  with  a 
proviso  that  the  law  should  be  abandoned  as  regards  either  of  these  countries 
which  should  repeal  its  objectionable  decrees.  The  French  Government  moved 
in  the  matter  first,  but  only  conditionally.  Our  non-intercourse  act,  however, 
was  after  18 10  in  force  only  against  Great  Britain.  That  our  claims  of  wrong 
were  equally  or  nearly  equally  as  great  against  France  in  this  matter  cannot  be 
doubted.  But  the  popular  feeling  was  stronger  against  Great  Britain  ;  a  war 
with  England  was  pojjular  with  the  mass  of  the  Democrats ;  and  it  was  the 
refusal  of  England  to  finally  accept  our  conditions  which  led  to  the  declaration 
of  war.  By  a  curious  chain  of  circumstances  it  happened,  however,  that  between 
the  time  when  Congress  declared  war  (June  iS,  181  2)  and  the  date  when  the 
news  of  this  declaration  was  received  in  l*lngland,  the  latter  country  had  already 
revoked  her  famous  "orders  in  council."  In  point  of  fact,  President  Madison 
was  very  reluctant  to  declare  war,  though  the  Federalists  always  took  great 
pleasure  in  speaking  of  this  as  "  Mr.  Madison's  war."  The  Federalists  dirough- 
out  considered  the  war  unnecessary  and  the  result  of  partisan  feeling  and  un- 
reasonable prejudice. 

It  is  peculiarly  grateful  to  American  pride  that  this  war,  undertaken  in 
defense  of  our  maritime  interests  and  to  uphold  the  honor  of  our  flag  upon 
the  high  seas,  resulted  in  a  series  of  naval  victories  brilliant  in  the  extreme.  It 
was  not,  indeed,  at  first  thought  that  this  would  be  chiefly  a  naval  war.  Presi- 
dent Madison  was  at  one  time  greatly  inclined  to  keep  stricdy  in  port  our  war 
vessels ;  but,  happily,  other  counsels  prevailed.  The  disparity  between  the  Amer- 
ican and  British  navies  was   certainly  disheartening.     The   United  States  had 


1 48 


STORY  OF  THE  WAR  OF  iSi3. 


seven  or  eight  frigates  and  a  few  sloops,  brigs,  and  gunboats,  while  the  sails  of 
England's  navy  whitened  every  sea,  and  her  ships  certainly  outnumbered  ours 
by  fifty  to  one.  On  the  other  hand,  her  hands  were  tied  to  a  great  extent  by  the 
European  wars  of  magnitude  in  which  she  was  involved.  She  \\r>\  to  defend  her 
commerce  from  formidable  enemies  in  many  seas,  and  could  give  but  a  small 
part  of  her  naval  strength  to  the  new  foe.     That  this  new  foe  was  despised  by 


LOAPiNn  A  roTTON  stf.ami:r 


the  great  power  which  claimed,  not  without  reason,  to  be  the  mistress  of  the  seas 
was  not  unnatural.  Hut  soon  we  find  a  lament  raised  in  Parliament  about  the 
reverses, "  which  luiglish  officers  and  English  sailors  had  not  before  been  used 
to,  and  tliat  from  such  a  contemptible  navy  as  that  of  America  had  always  been 
held."  The  fact  is  that  the  restriction  of  our  commerce  had  made  it  possible  for 
our  navy  officers  to  take  their  pick  of  a  remarkably  fine  body  of  native  American 
seamen,  naturally  brave  and  intelligent,  and  thoroughly  well  trained  in  all  sea- 


IVAR  ON  THE  CANADA  FRONTIER.  ^  149 

manlike  experiences.  These  men  \ver<!  in  many  instances  filled  with  a  spirit  of 
resentment  at  British  insolence,  having  cither  themselves  been  the  victim.,  of  the 
aggressions  which  we  have  described,  or  having  seen  their  friends  compelled  to 
submit  to  these  insolent  acts.  The  very  smallness  of  our  navy,  too,  was  in  a 
measure  its  strengdi ;  the  competition  for  active  service  among  those  bearing 
commissions  was  great,  and  there  was  never  any  trouble  in  finding  officers  of 
proved  sagacit)-  and  courage. 

At  the  outset,  however,  the  policy  determined  on  by  the  Administration  was 
not  one  of  naval  aeirression.  It  was  decided  to  attack  I'^ngland  from  her 
Canadian  colonies.  This  plan  of  campaign,  however  reasonable  it  might  seem 
to  a  strategist,  failed  wretchedly  in  execution.  The  first  year  of  the  war,  so  far 
as  regards  the  land  campaigns,  showed  nothing  but  reverses  and  fiascoes. 
There  was  a  long  and  thinly  settled  border  country,  in  which  our  slender  forces 
struggled  to  hold  their  own  against  the  barbarous  Indian  onslaughts,  making 
futile  expeditions  across  the  border  into  Canada  and  resisdng  with  some  success 
the  similar  expeditions  by  the  Canadian  troops.  It  was  one  of  the  complaints 
which  led  to  the  war  that  the  Indian  tribes  had  been  incited  against  our  setders 
by  the  Canadian  authorities  and  had  been  promised  aid  from  Canada.  It  is 
certain  that  after  war  was  declared  English  officers  not  only  employed  Indians  as 
their  allies,  but  in  some  instances,  at  least,  paid  bounties  for  the  scalps  of 
American  settlers.  The  Indian  war  planned  by  Tecumseh  had  just  been  put 
clown  by  General,  afterward  President,  Harrison.  No  doubt  Tecumseh  was  a 
man  of  more  elevated  ambition  and  more  humane  instincts  than  one  often  finds  in 
an  Indian  chief  His  hope  to  unite  the  tribes  and  to  drive  the  whites  out  of  his 
country  has  a  certain  nobility  of  purpose  and  breadth  of  view.  But  this  scheme 
had  failed,  and  the  Indian  warriors,  still  intlamed  for  war,  were  only  too  eager  to 
assist  the  Canadian  forces  in  a  desultory  but  bloody  border  war.  The  strength 
of  our  campaign  against  Canada  was  dissipated  in  an  attempt  to  hold  Fort 
Wayne,  Fort  Harrison,  and  other  garrisons  against  Indian  attacks.  Still  more 
disappointing  was  the  complete  failure  of  the  attempt,  imder  the  command  of 
General  Hull,  to  advance  from  Detroit  as  an  outpost,  into  Canada.  He  was 
easily  driven  back  to  Dt'troit,  and  when  the  nation  was  confidendy  waiting  to 
hear  of  a  bold  defense  of  that  place  it  was  startled  by  die  news  of  Hull's  surrender 
without  firing  a  gun,  antl  under  circumstances  which  seemed  to  indicate  either 
cowardice  or  treachery.  Hull  was,  in  fact,  court-martialed,  condemned  to  death, 
and  only  pardoned  on  account  of  his  services  in  the  war  of  1776. 

The  mortification  that  followed  the  land  campaign  of  1S12  was  forgotten  in 
joy  at  the  splendid  naval  victories  of  that  year.  Pre-eminent  among  these  was 
the  famous  sea-duel  between  the  frigates  ''Constitution"  and  "  Guerriere." 
Every  one  knows  of  the  glory  of  "Old  Ironsides,"  antl  this,  though  the  greatest, 
was  only  one  of    many  victories    by  which  the  name    of  the  "Constitution" 


i;o 


STORY  OF  THE  WAR  OF  1812. 


became  the  most  famed  and  beloved  of  all  that  have  been  associated  with  Amer- 
ican ships.     She  was  a  fine  frigate,  carrying  forty-four  guns,  and  though  English 
journals  had  ridiculed  her  as  "  a  bunch 
of  pine  boards   under   a   bit   of  striped  "  -'- 
bunting,"   it  was   not   long  before   they  '                      v 
were  busily  engaged  in  trying  to  prove  .    .      \     ^  , 
that  she  was  too  large  a  vessel  to  be  prop-  ^''           '»       ';•'■. 
erly  called  a  frigate,  and  that  she  greatly  '.  .  :   ' 
out-classed   her   opponent  in   metal  and  '     .                                     .  ■      ^     -  ■ 


^■^ 


BURNING  OF   WASUINOTON. 

men.      It   is   true    that    the 
"  Constitution  "    carried    six 
more  guns  and  a  few  more 
men  than   the  "  Guerriere," 
but,    all    allowances    being 
made,   her  victory  was  yet 
a  naval   triumph  of  the  first 
i  I'     magnitude.      Captain    Isaac 
^        Hull,  who  commanded  her, 
had  just  before  the  engage- 
ment   proved    his    superior 
seamanship  by  escaping  from  a  whole  squadron  of  British  vessels,  nut-sailing 
and  out-manceuvring   them  at  every  point.      It  was  on  August  19  when   he 


0 UR  VICTORIES  A  T  SEA.  1 5 1 

descried  the  "  Guerriere."  Both  vessels  at  once  cleared  for  action  and 
came  together  with  the  greatest  eagerness  on  both  sides  for  the  engagement. 
Though  the  battle  lasted  but  half  an  hour,  it  was  one  of  the  hottest  in  naval 
annals.  At  one  time  the  "  Constitution  "  was  on  fire,  and  both  ships  were  soon 
seriously  crippled  by  injury  to  their  spars.  Attempts  to  board  each  other  were 
thwarted  on  both  sides  by  the  close  fire  of  small  arms.  Here,  as  in  later  sea- 
fights  of  this  war,  the  accuracy  and  skill  of  the  American  gunners  were  some- 
thing marvelous.  At  the  end  of  half  an  hour  the  "Guerriere"  had  lost  both 
mainmast  and  foremast  and  floated  helplessly  in  the  open  sea.  Her  surrender 
was  no  discredit  to  her  officers,  as  she  was  almost  in  a  sinkin<r  condition.  It  was 
hopeless  to  attempt  to  tow  her  into  port,  and  Captain  Hull  transferred  his 
prisoners  to  his  own  vessel  and  set  fire  to  his  prize.  In  the  fight  the  American 
frigate  had  only  seven  men  killed  and  an  equal  number  wounded,  while  the 
British  vessel  had  as  many  as  seventy-nine  men  killed  or  wounded.  The  con- 
duct of  the  American  seamen  was  throughout  gallant  in  the  highest  degree. 
Captain  Hull  put  It  on  record  that  "  From  the  smallest  boy  in  the  ship  to  the 
oldest  seaman  not  a  look  of  fear  w'as  seen.  They  all  went  into  action  giving 
three  cheers  and  requesting  to  be  laid  close  alongside  die  enemy."  The  effect 
of  this  victory  in  both  America  and  England  was  extraordinary.  English  papers 
long  refused  to  believe  in  the  possibility  of  the  well-proved  facts,  while  in  America 
the  whole  country  joined  in  a  triumphal  shout  of  joy,  and  loaded  well-deserved 
honors  on  vessel,  captain,  officers,  and  men. 

The  chagrin  of  the  English  public  at  the  unexpected  result  of  this  sea  battle 
was  changed  to  amazement  when  one  after  another  there  followed  no  less  than 
six  combats  of  the  same  duel-like  character,  in  which  the  American  vessels  were 
invariably  victorious.  The  first  was  between  our  sloop,  the  "Wasp,"  and  the 
English  brig,  the  "Frolic,"  which  was  convoying  a  fleet  of  merchantmen.  The 
fight w-as  one  of  the  most  desperate  in  the  war;  the  two  sliips  were  brought  so 
close  together  that  their  gunners  could  touch  the  sides  of  the  opposing  vessels 
with  their  rammers.  Broadside  after  broadside  was  poured  into  the  "  Frolic  "  by 
the  "Wasp,"  which  obtained  the  superior  position,  but  her  sailors,  unable  to 
await  the  victory  which  was  sure  to  come  from  the  continued  raking  of  the 
enemy's  vessel,  rushed  upon  her  decks  without  orders  and  soon  overpowered 
her.  Again  the  British  loss  in  killed  and  wounded  was  large  ;  that  of  the  Ameri- 
cans very  small.  It  in  no  wise  detracted  from  the  glory  of  this  victory  that  both 
victor  and  prize  were  soon  captured  by  a  British  man-of-war  of  immensely  supe- 
rior strength.  Following  this  action,  Commodore  Stephen  Decatur,  in  our  frigate, 
the  "  United  States,"  attacked  the  "Macedonian,"  a  British  vessel  of  the  same  kind, 
and  easily  defeated  her,  bringing  her  into  New  York  harbor  on  New  Year's  Day, 
1813,  where  he  received  an  ovation  equal  to  that  offered  Captain  Hull.  The 
same  result  followed  the  attack  of  the  "  Constitution,"  now  under  the  command 


152 


STORY  OF  THE  WAR  OF  1812. 


of  Commodore  Bain- 
"Java;"  the  latter  had  her 
about  one  hundred  wound- 
that  it  was  decided  to  blow 
tion  "  suffered  so  little  that 
Ironsides,"  a  name  now 
been  in  every  school-boy's 
resulted,  in  the  great  ma- 
jority of  cases  in  the  same 
way — in  all  unstinted 
praise  was  awarded  by  the 


bridge,  upon  the  English 
captain  and  fifty  men  killed  and 
ed,  and  was  left  such  a  wreck 
her  up,  while  the  "  Constitu- 
she  was  in  sport  dubbed  "  Old 
ennobled  by  a  poem  which  has 
mouth.     Other  naval  combats 


STATUE  OF  CnMMnnr)RE  PF.RRY. 

whole  world,  even  including 
England  herself,  to  the  admira- 
ble seamanship,  the  wonderful 
gunnery,  and  the  constant  per- 
sonal intrepitude  of  our  naval 
forces.  When  the  second  year 
of  the  war  closed  our  little  navy 


EXPLOITS  OF  PRIVATEERS.  153 

had  captured  twenty-six  war-ships,  armed  with  560  guns,  while  it  had  lost  only 
seven  ships,  carrying  119  guns. 

But,  if  the  highest  honors  of  the  war  were  thus  won  by  our  navy,  the 
most  serious  injury  materially  to  Great  Britain  was  in  the  devastation  of  her 
commerce  by  American  privateers.  No  less  than  two  hundred  and  fifty 
of  these  sea  guerrillas  were  afloat,  and  in  the  first  year  of  the  war  they 
captured  over  three  hundred  merchant  vessels,  sometimes  even  attacking 
and  overcoming  the  smaller  class  of  war-ships.  The  privateers  were  usually 
schooners  armed  with  a  few  small  guns,  but  carrying  one  long  cannon 
mounted  on  a  swivel  so  that  it  could  be  turned  to  any  point  of  the  horizon, 
and  familiarly  known  as  Long  Tom.  Of  course,  the  crews  were  influenced 
by  greed  as  well  as  by  patriotism.  Privateering  is  a  somewhat  doubtful 
mode  of  warfare  at  the  best;  but  international  law  permits  it;  and  though 
it  is  hard  to  dissociate  from  it  a  certain  odor,  as  of  legalized  piracy,  it  is 
legitimate  to  this  day.  And  surely  if  it  were  ever  justifiable  it  was  at  that 
time.  As  JefTerson  said,  there  were  then  tens  of  thousands  of  seamen 
forced  by  war  from  their  natural  means  of  support  and  useless  to  their 
country  in  any  other  way,  while  by  "licensing  private  armed  vessels  the  whole 
naval  force  of  the  nation  was  truly  brought  to  bear  on  the  foe."  The  havoc 
wrought  on  British  trade  was  widespread  indeed  ;  altogether  between  fifteen 
hundred  and  two  thousand  prizes  were  taken  by  the  privateers.  To  compute 
the  value  of  these  prizes  is  impossible,  but  some  idea  may  be  gained  from 
the  single  fact  that  one  privateer,  the  "Yankee,"  in  a  cruise  of  less  than 
two  months  captured  five  brigs  and  four  schooners  with  cargoes  valued  at 
over  half  a  million  dollars.  The  men  engaged  in  this  form  of  warfare  were 
bold  to  recklessness,  and  their  exploits  have  furnished  many  a  tale  to  Ameri- 
can  writers  of  romance. 

The  naval  combats  thus  far  mentioned  were  almost  always  of  single  vessels. 
For  batdes  of  fleets  we  must  turn  from  the  salt  water  to  the  fresh,  from  the 
ocean  to  the  great  lakes.  The  control  of  the  waters  of  Lake  Erie,  Lake  Onta- 
rio, and  Lake  Champlain  was  obviously  of  vast  importance,  in  view  of  the  con- 
tinued land-fighting  in  the  West  and  of  the  attempted  invasion  of  Canada  and 
the  threatened  counter-invasions.  The  British  had  the  great  advantage  of  being 
able  to  reach  the  lakes  by  the  St.  Lawrence,  while  our  lake  navies  had  to  be  con- 
structed after  the  war  began.  One  such  litde  navy  had  been  built  at  Presque 
Isle,  now  Erie,  on  Lake  Erie.  It  comprised  two  brigs  of  twenty  guns  and  sev- 
eral schooners  and  gunboats.  It  must  be  remembered  that  everything  but  the 
lumber  needed  for  the  vessels  had  to  be  brought  through  the  forests  by  land 
from  the  eastern  seaports,  and  the  mere  problem  of  transportation  was  a  serious 
one.  When  finished,  the  fleet  was  put  in  command  of  Oliver  Hazard  Perry. 
Watching  his  time  (and,  it  is  said,  taking  advantage  of  the  carelessness  of  the 


'54 


STORY  OF  THE  WAR  OF  1812. 


British  commander  in  going  on  shore  to  dinner  one  Sunday,  when  he  should 
have  been  watching  Perry's  movements),  the  American  commander  drew  his 
fleet  over  the  bar  which  had  protected  it  while  in  harbor  from  the  onslaughts  of 
the  British  fleet.  To  get  the  brigs  over  this  bar  was  a  work  of  time  and  great 
difificulty ;  an  attack  at  that  hour  by  the  British  would  certainly  have  ended  in 
the  total  destruction  of  the  fleet.  Once  accomplished,  Perry,  in  his  flagship,  the 
"  Lawrence,"  headed  a  fleet  often  vessels,  fifty-five  guns,  and  four  hundred  men.' 
Opposed  to  him  was  Captain  Barclay  with  six  ships,  sixty-five  guns,  and  also 


VIEW  ON  LAKE  ONTARIO. 


about  four  hundred  men.  The  British  for  several  weeks  avoided  the  conflict, 
but  in  the  end  were  cornered  and  forced  to  fight.  It  was  at  the  beginning  of 
this  battle  that  Perry  displayed  the  flag  bearing  Lawrence's  famous  dying 
words,  "  Don't  give  up  the  ship  !  "  No  less  famous  is  his  dispatch  announcing 
the  result  in  the  words,  "  We  have  met  the  enemy  and  they  are  ours."  The 
victory  was  indeed  a  complete  and  decisive  one  ;  all  six  of  the  enemy's  ships 
were  captured,  and  their  loss  was  nearly  double  that  of  Perry's  forces.  The 
complete  control  of  Lake  Erie  was  assured ;  that  of  Lake  Ontario  had  already 
been  gained  by  Commodore  Chauncey. 


BATTLE  OF  THE  THAMES.  ISS 

Perry's  memorable  victory  opened  the  way  for  important  land  operations  by 
General  Harrison,  who  now  marched  from  Detroit  with  the  design  of  invading 
Canada.  He  engaged  with  Proctor's  mingled  body  of  British  troops  and  Indians, 
and  by  the  Batde  of  the  Thames  drove  back  the  British  from  that  part  of  Canada 
and  restored  matters  to  the  position  in  which  they  stood  before  Hull's  deplorable 
surrender  of  Detroit — and,  indeed,  of  all  Michigan — to  the  British.  In  this  battle 
of  the  Thames  the  Indian  chief,  Tecumseh,  fell,  and  about  three  hundred  of  the 
British  and  Indians  were  killed  on  the  field.  The  hold  of  our  enemies  on  the 
Indian  tribes  was  greatly  broken  by  this  defeat.  Previous  to  this  the  land  cam- 
paigns had  been  marked  by  a  succession  of  minor  victories  and  defeats.  In  the 
West  a  force  of  Americans  under  General  Winchester  had  been  captured  at  the 
River  Raisin  ;  and  there  took  place  an  atrocious  massacre  of  large  numbers  of 
prisoners  by  the  Indians,  who  were  quite  beyond  restraint  from  their  white  allies. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  Americans  had  captured  the  city  of  York,  now  Toronto, 
though  at  the  cost  of  their  leader,  General  Pike,  who,  with  two  hundred  of  his 
men,  was  destroyed  by  the  e.\plosion  of  a  magazine.  Fort  George  had  also  been 
captured  by  the  Americans  and  an  attack  on  Sackett's  Harbor  had  been  gal- 
lantly repulsed.  Following  the  battle  of  the  Thames,  extensive  operations  of 
an  aggressive  kind  had  been  planned  looking  toward  the  capture  of  Montreal 
and  the  invasion  of  Canada  by  way  of  Lakes  Ontario  and  Champlain.  Un- 
happily, jealousy  between  the  American  Generals  Wilkinson  and  Hampton 
resulted  in  a  lack  of  concert  in  their  military  operations,  and  the  expedldon 
was  a  complete  fiasco. 

One  turns  for  consolation  from  the  mortifying  record  of  Wilkinson's  ex- 
pedition to  the  story  of  the  continuous  successes  which  had  accompanied  the 
naval  operations  of  1813.  Captain  Lawrence,  in  the  "  Hornet,"  won  a  complete 
victory  over  the  English  brig  "  Peacock ;"  our  brig,  the  "  Enterprise,"  captured  the 
"  Boxer,"  and  other  equally  welcome  victories  were  reported.  One  distinct 
defeat  had  marred  the  record — that  of  our  fine  brig,  the  "Chesapeake,"  com- 
manded by  Captain  Lawrence,  which  had  been  captured  after  one  of  the  most 
hard-fought  contests  of  the  war  by  the  British  brig,  the  •'  Shannon."  Lawrence 
himself  fell  mortally  wounded,  exclaiming  as  he  was  carried  away,  "Tell  the  men 
not  to  give  up  the  ship  but  fight  her  till  she  sinks."  It  was  a  paraphrase  of  this 
exclamation  which  Perry  used  as  a  rallying  signal  in  the  battle  on  Lake  Erie. 
Despite  his  one  defeat.  Captain  Lawrence's  fame  as  a  gallant  seaman  and  high- 
minded  patriot  was  untarnished,  and  his  death  was  more  deplored  throughout 
the  country  than  was  the  loss  of  his  ship. 

In  the  latter  part  of  the  war  England  was  enabled  to  send  large  reinforce- 
ments both  to  her  army  and  navy  engaged  in  the  American  campaigns.  Events 
in  Europe  seemed  in  18 14  to  insure  peace  for  at  least  a  time.  Napoleon's  power 
was  broken  ;  the  Emperor  himself  was  exiled  at  Elba;  and  Great  Britain  at  last 


IS6  STORY  OF  THE  WAR  OF  1S12. 

had  her  hands  free.  But  before  the  reinforcements  reached  this  councr}-,  our 
army  had  won  greater  credit  and  had  shown  more  military  skill  by  far  than  were 
evinced  in  its  earlier  operations.     Along  the  line  of  the  Niagara  River  active 


WEAlHl'.RalUKD    AM)    GKNi:kAl.   JACKSON. 


fighting  had  been  going  on.  In  the  battle  of  Chippewa,  the  capture  of  Fort  Erie, 
the  engagement  at  Lundy's  Lane,  and  the  defense  of  Fort  Erie  the  troops,  under 
the  command  of  Winfield  Scott  and  General  Brown,  had  held  their  own,  and  more, 
against  superior  forces,  and  had  won  from  British  officers  the  admission  that  they 


THE  BURNING  OF  WASHINGTON.  !57 

fought  as  well  under  fire  as  regular  troops.  More  encouraging  still  was  the 
total  defeat  of  the  plan  of  invasion  from  Canada  undertaken  by  the  now  gready 
strenirthened  British  forces.  These  numbered  twelve  thousand  men  and  were 
supported  by  a  fleet  on  Lake  Champlain.  Their  operations  were  directed  against 
Plattsburg,  and  in  the  battle  on  the  lake,  usually  called  by  the  name  of  that  town, 
the  American  flotill.i  under  the  command  of  Commodore  Macdonough  completely 
routed  ihc  British  fleet.  As  a  result  the  English  army  also  beat  a  rapid  and 
undignified  retreat  to  Canada.  This  was  the  last  important  engagement  to  take 
place  in  the  North. 

Meanwhile  expeditions  of  considerable  size  were  directed  by  the  British 
against  our  principal  Southern  cities.  One  of  these  brought  General  Ross  with 
five  thousand  men,  chiefly  the  pick  of  the  Duke  of  Wellington's  army,  into  the 
Bay  of  Chesapeake.  Nothing  was  more  discreditable  in  the  military  strategy  of 
our  Administration  than  the  fact  that  at  this  time  Washington  was  left  unprotected, 
though  in  evident  clanger.  General  Ross  marched  straight  upon  the  Capital, 
easily  defeated  at  Bladensburg  an  inferior  force  of  raw  militia — who  yet  fought 
with  intrepidity  for  the  most  part — seized  the  city,  and  carried  out  his  intention  of 
destroying  die  public  buildings  and  a  great  part  of  the  town.  Most  of  die  public 
archives  had  been  removed.  Ross'  conduct  in  the  burning  of  Washington  was 
probably  within  the  limits  of  legitimate  warfare  but  has  been  condemned  as  semi- 
barbarous  by  many  writers.  The  achievement  gave  great  joy  to  the  Engli-h 
papers,  but  was  really  of  less  importance  than  was  supposed.  Washington  at 
that  time  was  a  straggling  town  of  only  eight  thousand  inhabitants  ;  its  public 
buildings  were  not  at  all  adequate  to  the  demands  of  the  future  ;  and  an  optimist 
might  even  consider  the  destruction  of  the  old  city  as  a  public  benefit,  for  it 
enabled  Congress  to  adopt  the  plans  which  have  since  led  to  the  making  of 
perhaps  the  most  beautiful  city  of  the  country. 

A  similar  attempt  upon  Baltimore  was  less  successful.  The  people  of  that 
city  made  a  brave  defense  and  hastily  threw  up  extensive  fortifications.  In  the 
end  the  Bridsh  fleet,  after  a  severe  bombardment  of  Fort  McHenry,  were  driven 
off  The  British  Admiral  had  boasted  that  Fort  McHenry  would  yield  in  a  few 
hours ;  and  two  days  after,  when  its  flag  was  still  flying,  Francis  S.  Key  was  in- 
spired by  its  sight  to  compose  the  "  Star  Spangled  Banner." 

A   still    larger  expedition  of  British  troops  landed  on  the  Louisiana  coast 

and  marched  to  the  attack  of  New  Orleans.     Here  General  Andrew  Jackson 

was  in  command.     He  had  already  distinguished   himself  in  this  war  by  putting 

down  with  a  strong  hand  the  hostile  Creek  Indians  of  the  then  Spanisli  territory 

of  Florida,  who   had  been  incited   by   English   envoys  to  warfare  against  our 

Southern  settlers;    and   in  April,  1814,  William  Weathersford,   the  half-breed 

chief,    had    surrendered    in    person    to    Jackson    (see    illustration).      General 

Packenham,  who   commanded  the  five  thousand   British  soldiers  sent  against 
10 


1S8  STORY  OF  THE  WAR  OF  1S12. 

New  Orleans,  expected  as  easy  a  victory  as  that  of  General  Ross  at  Washington. 
But  Jackson  had  summoned  to  his  aid  the  stalwart  frontiersmen  of  Kentucky 
and  Tennessee — men  used  from  boyhood  to  the  rifle,  and  who  made  up 
what  was  in  effect  a  splendid  force  of  sharp-shooters.  Both  armies  threw  up 
rough  fortifications ;  General  Jackson  made  great  use  for  that  purpose  of  cotton 
bales,  Packenham  employing  the  still  less  solid  material  of  sugar  barrels. 
Oddly  enough,  the  final  batde,  and  really  the  most  important  of  the  war,  took 
place  after  the  treaty  of  peace  between  the  two  countries  had  already  been 
signed.  The  British  were  repulsed  again  and  again  in  persistent  and  gallant 
attacks  on  our  fortifications.  General  Packenham  himself  was  killed,  together 
with  many  officers  and  seven  hundred  of  his  men.  One  British  officer  pushed  to 
the  top  of  our  earthworks  and  demanded  their  surrender,  whereupon  he  was 
smilingly  asked  to  look  behind  him,  and  turning  saw,  as  he  afterward  said,  that 
the  men  he  supposed  to  be  supporting  him  "had  vanished  as  if  the  earth  had 
swallowed  them  up."     The  American  losses  were  inconsiderable. 

The  treaty  of  peace,  signed  at  Ghent,  December  24,  1S14,  has  been  ridiculed 
because  it  contained  no  positive  agreement  as  to  many  of  the  questions  in  dis- 
pute. Not  a  word  did  it  say  about  the  impressment  of  American  sailors  or  the 
rights  of  neutral  ships.  Its  chief  stipulations  were  the  mutual  restoration  of  ter- 
ritory and  the  appointing  of  a  commission  to  determine  our  northern  boundary 
line.  The  truth  is  that  both  nations  were  tired  of  the  war ;  the  circumstances 
that  had  led  to  England's  aggressions  no  longer  existed  ;  both  countries  were 
suffering  enormous  commercial  loss  to  no  avail ;  and,  above  all,  the  United  States 
had  emphatically  justified  by  its  deeds  its  claim  to  an  equal  place  in  the  council 
of  nations.  Politically  and  materially,  further  warfare  was  illogical.  If  the  two 
nations  had  understood  each  other  better  in  the  first  place  ;  if  Great  Britain  had 
treated  our  demands  with  courtesy  and  justice  instead  of  insolence  ;  if,  in  short, 
international  comity  had  taken  the  place  of  international  ill-temper,  the  war  might 
have  been  avoided  altogether.  Its  undoubted  benefits  to  us  were  incidental 
rather  than  direct.  But  though  not  formally  recognized  by  treaty,  the  rights  of 
American  seamen  and  of  American  ships  were  in  fact  no  longer  infringed  upon 
by  Great  Britain. 


JOHN  QUINCY  ADAMS, 


THE    ACCOMl^CISHBU     1 'KKSI 1 JENT,    ANH    GREAT 
OEFENIJEK   OE  THE    KIOHT   OK    I'ETITIOX. 


^Ml'^RICA  is  the  land  of  self-made  men.  Many  of  the 
greatest  statesmen  of  this  r(,'public  have  been  men  who, 
from  the  deepest  poverty  and  obscurity,  rose  step  by  step 
to  the  hii^di(!st  eminence.  To  such  lives  the  career  of 
John  Ouincy  Adams  forms  a  curious  contrast,  lie  was 
the  son  of  a  threat  statc;sman,  antl  traineil  in  politics  and 
diplomacy  from  earliest  youth.  He  was  educated  in  the 
best  schools  of  America  and  Europe.  So  early  were  his 
abilities  developed,  that  when  he  was  a  mere  boy  they  attracted 
the  attention  of  W'ashinoton  ;  and  from  diat  tinn;  until  the  day 
when,  half  a  century  later,  death  found  him  at  his  post,  he  was  equal 
to  every  duty,  pr('[)ared  for  every  station.  He  went  steadily  on,  up  to 
the  hit^hest  office  in  the  nation's  L,nft  ;  but  his  unicpie  fame  was  won,  not 
in  his  presidency,  but  in  the  humbler  post  which  he  afterward  took  in  the  House 
of  Representatives.  There,  for  seventeen  years,  fhrouo-h  evil  and  good  report, 
he  stood,  always  at  his  post,  maintaining  the  sacred  right  of  petition,  and  plead- 
ing the  cause  of  the  poor  and  oppressed. 

Almost  the  whole  life  of  John  Quincy  Adams  was  passed  amid  the  "storms 

i6l 


l62  JOHN  QUINCY  ADAMS. 

of  state."  When  but  eight  years  of  age  he  stood  with  his  mother  upon  an 
eminence,  listening  to  the  booming  of  the  great  battle  on  Bunker's  Hill,  and 
gazing  upon  the  smoke  and  flame  billowing  up  from  the  conflagration  of  Charles- 
town.  Often,  during  the  siege  of  Boston,  he  watched  the  shells  thrown  day  and 
night  by  the  combatants.  When  but  eleven  years  old  he  took  a  tearful  adieu 
of  his  mother  and  was  rowed  out  in  a  small  boat  to  a  ship  anchored  in  the  bay,  to 
sail  with  his  father  for  Europe  through  a  fleet  of  hostile  British  cruisers.  Hii- 
father,  John  Adams,  was  associated  with  Franklin  and  Lee  as  minister  plenipo 
tentiary  at  Paris.  The  boy's  intelligence  attracted  the  notice  of  these  distin- 
guished men,  and  he  received  from  them  flattering  marks  of  attention. 

John  Adams  had  scarcely  returned  to  this  country  in  1779  ere  he  was  again 
sent  abroad,  empowered  tO  negotiate  a  treaty  of  peace  with  England  whenever 
England  should  be  disposed  to  end  the  war.  Again  John  Ouincy  Adams  accom- 
panied his  father.  On  this  voyage  he  commenced  a  diary,  noting  down  the 
remarkable  events  of  each  day  ;  which  practice  he  continued,  with  but  few  inter- 
ruptions, until  his  death.  At  Paris  he  applied  himself  with  great  diligence,  for 
six  months,  to  study ;  then  accompanied  his  father  to  Holland,  where  he 
entered,  first  a  school  in  Amsterdam,  and  then  the  University  of  Leyden.  In 
'781,  when  but  fourteen  years  of  age.  he  was  selected  by  Mr.  Dana,  our  minis- 
ter to  the  Russian  court,  as  his  private  secretary. 

In  this  school  of  incessant  labor  and  culture  he  spent  fourteen  months,  and 
then  returned  to  Holland  through  .Sweden,  Denmark,  Hamburg,  and  Bremen. 
This  long  journey  he  took  alone,  in  the  winter,  when  in  his  sixteenth  year. 
Again  he  resumed  his  studies,  under  a  private  tutor,  at  the  Hague.  Thence, 
in  the  spring  of  1782,  he  accompanied  his  father  to  Paris,  traveling  leisurely, 
and  forming  acquaintances  with  the  most  distinguished  men  on  the  continent. 
At  Paris  he  again  became  the  associate  of  the  most  illustrious  men  of  all  lands. 
After  a  short  visit  to  England,  he  returned  to  Paris,  and  consecrated  all  his 
energies  to  study  until  May,  1785,  when  he  returned  to  America,  leaving  his 
father  our  ambassador  at  the  court  of  St.  James. 

The  advancement  which  he  had  already  made  in  education  was  such  that 
in  1786  he  entered  the  junior  class  in  Harvard  University.  His  character, 
attainments,  and  devotion  to  study  secured  alike  the  respect  of  his  classmates 
and  the  faculty,  antl  he  graduated  with  the  second  honor  of  his  class.  Upon 
leaving  college,  at  the  age  of  twenty,  he  studied  law,  and  in  1790  opened  ai^ 
office  in  I^oston. 

WhiMi  (ireat  P)ritain  commenced  war  against  Fiance,  in  1793,  to  arrest  the 
progress  of  the  I'rench  Revolution,  Mr.  Adams  wrote  some  articles  urging  entire 
neutrality  on  the  part  of  the  United  States.  The  view  was  not  a  popular  one. 
Many  felt  that  as  France  had  helpeil  us,  we  were  bound  to  help  France.  But 
President  Washington  coincided  with  Mr.  Adams,  and  issued  a  proclamation 


MISSION  TO  EUROPE.  163 

of  neutrality.  His  writings  at  this  time  in  the  Boston  journals  attracted  national 
attention,  and  gave  him  so  high  a  reputation  for  talent  and  familiarity  with  our 
diplomatic  relations,  that  in  June,  1794,  he,  being  then  but  twenty-seven  years 
of  age,  was  appointed  by  Washington  resident  minister  at  the  Netherlands. 

In  the  agitated  state  of  Europe,  swept  by  great  armies  struggling  for  and 
against  "equal  rights  for  all  men,"  there  was  but  little  that  a  peaceful  ambassa- 
dor could  then  accomplish;  but  being  one  of  the  most  methodical  and  laborious 
of  men,  he  devoted  himself  to  official  duties,  the  claims  of  society,  reading  the 
ancient  classics,  and  familiarizing  himself  with  the  languages  of  modern  Europe. 
Every  hour  had  its  assigned  duty.  Every  night  he  reviewed  what  he  had  done 
for  the  day ;  and  at  the  close  of  every  month  and  every  year  he  subjected  his 
conduct  to  rigorous  retrospection. 

In  July,  1797,  he  left  the  Hague  to  go  to  Portugal  as  minister  plenipoten- 
tiary.    Washington  at  this  time  wrote  to  his  father,  John  Adams  : — 

"Without  intending  to  compliment  the  father  or  the  mother,  or  to  censure 
any  others,  I  give  it  as  my  decided  opinion,  that  Mr.  Adams  is  the  most  valuable 
character  which  we  have  abroad  ;  and  there  remains  no  doubt  in  my  mind  that 
he  will  prove  himself  the  ablest  of  all  our  diplomatic  corps." 

On  his  way  to  Portugal,  upon  his  arrival  in  London,  he  met  with  despatches 
directing  him  to  the  court  of  Berlin,  but  requesting  him  to  remain  in  London 
until  he  should  receive  his  instructions.  While  waiting  he  was  married  to  an 
American  latly  to  whom  he  had  been  previously  engaged, — Miss  Louisa  Catha- 
rine Johnson,  daughter  of  the  American  consul  in  London  ;  a  lady  endowed  with 
beauty  and  accomplishments  which  made  her  a  worthy  companion. 

He  reached  Berlin  with  his  wife  in  November,  1 797,  where  he  remained 
until  July,  1799,  when,  having  fulfilled  all  the  purposes  of  his  mission,  he 
solicited  his  recall.  As  soon  as  permission  came  for  his  return,  he  embarked, 
and  reached  the  United  States  in  September,  1801. 

SKXATOR    AND    rROFE.SSOR. 

Soon  after  his  retu'n,  in  1802,  he  was  chosen  to  the  Senate  of  Massachu- 
setts from  Boston,  and  then  was  elected  senator  of  the  United  States  for  six  years 
from  the  4th  of  March,  1804.  His  reputation,  ability,  and  experience  placed 
him  immediately  among  the  most  prominent  and  Intluential  members  of  that 
body.  In  every  measure  which  his  judgment  approved,  he  cordially  supijorted 
Mr.  Jefferson's  administration.  Especially  did  he  sustain  the  government  in  its 
measures  of  resistance  to  the  encroachments  of  England,  destroying  our 
commerce  and  insulting  our  flag.  There  was  no  man  in  America  more  familiar 
with  the  arrogance  of  the  British  court  upon  these  points,  and  no  one  more 
resolved  to  present  a  firm  resistance. 

In  1805  he  was  chosen  professor  of  rhetoric  in  Harvard  College;  -and  this 


i64  JOHN  QUINCY  ADAMS. 

indefatigable  man,  in  addition  to  liis  senatorial  duties,  entered  vigorously  upon 
a  course  of  preparatory  studies,  reviewing  his  classics,  and  searching  the  litera- 
ture of  Europe  for  materials  for  his  lectures.  The  lectures  he  thus  prepared 
were  subsequently  published,  and  constitute  enduring  memorials  of  his  genius 
and  his  industry. 

In  1809  Madison  succeeded  Jefferson  in  the  presidendal  chair;  and  he 
immediately  nominated  John  Ouincy  Adams  minister  to  St.  Petersburg. 
Resigning  his  professorship,  he  embarked  at  Boston  with  Mrs.  Adams  and  their 
youngest  son  in  August,  1S09,  and,  after  a  stormy  passage,  reached  St.  Peters- 
burg on  the  23d  of  October.  Twice  their  ship,  which  was  a  merchantman,  was 
stopped  and  searched  by  P>ritish  cruisers  ;  and,  but  for  Mr.  Adams'  firmness 
and  thorough  accpiaintance  with  the  laws  of  nadons,  the  ship  would  not  have 
been  permitted  to  continue  to  its  port  of  destination. 

He  was  received  by  the  Emperor  Alexander  alone  in  his  cabinet,  and  a 
warm  attachment  immediately  sprang  up  between  those  illustrious  men  ;  and 
thus  was  laid  the  foumlations  of  that  friendship  which  binds  the  two  nations 
together  to  the  present  day. 

The  foreign  ministers  at  the  Russian  court  were  generally  living  in  the 
greatest  magnificence  ;  but  Mr.  Adams  received  so  small  a  salary  that  he  was 
compelled  to  practice  the  most  rigid  economy.  He  was  expected  to  attend  the 
splendid  entertainments  of  others,  but  could  give  none  in  return.  One  morning, 
as  he  was  out  walking,  he  met  the  emperor,  who  came  cordially  up  to  him,  and, 
clasping  his  hand,  said  : — 

"  Why,  Mr.  Adams,  it  is  a  hundred  years  since  I  have  seen  you  !  "  .After 
some  common  obser\ations,  he  inquired,  "  Do  you  intend  to  take  a  house  in  the 
country  this  summer?  " 

"  No,"  Mr.  Adams  replied  :  "  I  had  that  intention  for  some  time,  but  have 
given  it  up." 

"And  why?  "  inquired  the  emperor.  Then,  observing  a  litde  hesitation  in 
Mr.  Adams'  manner,  he  relieved  him  from  his  embarrassment  l)y  saying  in 
perfect  good  humor  and  with  a  smile,  "Perhaps  it  is  from  considerations  of 
finance." 

"  Those  considerations  are  often  very  important,"  Mr.  Adams  replied. 

"You  are  right,"  rejoined  the  emperor  :  "it  is  always  necessary  to  pro 
portion  one's  expenses  to  one's  receipts." 

While  in  Russia  Mr.  Adams  was  an  intense  student.  Me  devoted  his 
attention  to  the  language  and  history  of  Russia  ;  to  the  Chinese  trade  ;  to  the 
European  system  of  weights,  measures,  and  coins  ;  to  the  climate,  and  astro- 
nomical obser\-ations  ;  while  he  kept  up  a  familiar  acquaintance  with  the  Greek 
anc'  Latin  classics.  In  all  the  universities  of  Europe  a  more  accomplished 
scholar  could  scarcely  be  found.      All  through  life  the  Bible  constituted  an 


THE  TREATY  OF  GHENT. 


i6f 


important  part  of  his  studies.  It  was  his  rule  every  day  to  read  five  chapters. 
He  also  read  with  threat  attention  the  works  of  the  most  eminent  theolot^nans.. 
With  this  eas^^erness  in  the  pursuit  of  knowledge,  it  is  not  sur[)risini,''  that  he 
should  write  to  a  friend  : — 

"I  feel  nothing  like  the  tediousness  of  time.  I  suffer  nothing  like  niiiui. 
Time  is  too  short  for  me  rather  than  too  long.  If  the  day  was  forty-eight  hours, 
instead  of  twenty-four,  I  could  employ  them  all,  if  I  had  but  eyes  and  hands  to 
read  and  write." 

As  England  had  consented  to  treat  for  peace,  Mr.  Adams  was  appointed, 
with  Mr.  Gallatin  and  Mr.  Bayard,  to  conduct  the  negotiations.     The  commis- 


Tlii;    WIIIIK    IHUSI'.    AT    WAnIIINCIdN. 


sioners  met  at  Ghent,  in  1S15.  Mr.  y\dams  took  the  leading  part.  The 
Marquis  of  Wellesley,  in  commenting  upon  the  treaty  which  was  then  entered 
into,  said  in  the  British  I  louse  ot  Lords, — 

"In  my  opinion,  the  American  commissioners  have  shown  the  most  aston- 
ishing superiority  over  the  ICnglish  during  the  whole  of  the  corres[)ondence." 

From  Ghent  Mr.  Adams  went  to  Paris,  where  he  chanced  to  be  when  the 
Emperor  Napoleon  returned  from  b^lba.  Mrs.  Adams  joined  him  h(!re  ;  and 
they  proceeded  together  to  London,  he  having  been  appointed  minister  to  the 
British  court. 

On  the  4th  of  March,  18 17,  Mr.  Monroe  took  the  presidential   chair,  and 


l6r,  JOHX  QUIXCV  ADAMS. 

imiiKuliaK-'ly  appointed  Mr.  Adams  Secretary  of  State.  Taking  leave  of  his 
numerous  friends  in  public  and  prixate  life  in  Europe,  he  sailed,  in  June,  1S17, 
for  the  United  States.  After  a  short  visit  home,  he  re[)aired  to  Washington 
and  entertul  upon  his  ncnv  duties,  as  thoroughly  preparc;d  for  them,  in  ability, 
(Mlucation,  and  e.\pt;riencc;,  as  one  could  be.  During  the  eight  years  of  Mr 
Monroe's  administration,  Mr.  Adams  continued  .Secretary  of  .State.  Few  w'll 
now  contradict  the  assertion,  that  the  duties  of  that  office  w(.'re  never  more  aliiy 
discharged.  Probably  the  most  important  UK.-asure  which  Mr.  Atlams  conducted 
was  the  purchase  of  Idorida  from  .Spain,  for  five  million  dollars. 

.Some  time  before  the  clost;  of  Mr.  Monroi^'s  second  term  of  office,  new 
candidates  began  to  be  presented  for  the  presidency.  The  frientls  of  Mr.  .Adams 
l)r()ught  forward  his  name.  It  was  an  exciting  campaign.  Party  s|)irit  was 
never  more  bitter.  i'wo  hundred  antl  sixty-one  electoral  \'otes  were  cast. 
.Andrew  [ackson  received  ninety-nine  ;  loliii  Ouincy  .\dams,  eighty-four  ;  Wil- 
liam 1 1.  Crawford,  forty-one  ;  Henry  Clay,  thirty-seven.  As  there  was  no  choice 
by  the  i)eople,  the  question  went  to  the  1  louse  of  Representatives.  Mr.  Clay 
gave  the  vote  of  Kentuckv  to  Mr.  Adams,  and  he  was  elected. 

riie  fri(Mids  of  the  disappointed  candidates  now  combined  in  a  venomous 
and  persistent  assault  upon  Mr.  .\tlams.  There  are  fc;w  things  more  disgrace- 
ful in  the  history  of  our  country  than  the  abuse  which  was  poured  upon  this 
high-mintled,  upright,  patriotic  man.  There  never  was  an  administration  more 
pun^  in  principles,  more  conscit;ntiously  devoted  to  the  best  interc^sts  of  the 
country,  than  that  of  [ohn  Ouincy  Atlams  ;  and  never,  perhaps,  was  there  an 
administration  mor(;  unscrujjulouslv  aiid  outrageously  assailed,  h  may,  liow- 
ever.  help  us  to  understand  what  would  otiun'wise  be  unaccountable,  if  we 
remember  what  an  immense  intluence  is  exertetl  by  [)ersonal  manners,  and 
how  deficient  Adams  was  in   this  respect. 

AI'AMS    AM)    JACKSON'    IX    CON  rUASP. 

Mr.  .\dams,  in  his  jMiblic  manners,  was  cold  and  repulsive  ;  though  it  is 
said  that  with  his  personal  friends  he  was  at  limes  very  genial.  In  his  public 
receptions  and  othcial  intercourse  he  often  appeared  "  with  a  formal  coldness, 
that  froze  liki;  the  a[)pr()ach  to  an  ic<djerg."  The  c;vening  after  the  election  Mr. 
Monroe  held  a  presidential  levee.  .\li  Washingtt)n  crowded  to  the  White 
House,  eager  to  pay  homage  to  the  rising  sun.  .Mr.  .S.  (i.  Coodrich  ("Peter 
Parley")  hapix-ned  to  be  present,   and  has  described  the  scene: — 

"I  shall  ])ass  over,"  Ik;  writes,  "other  individuals  present,  only  noting  an 
incident  which  res|)ects  the  two  j)ersons  in  the  assembly  who,  most  of  all 
others,  engrossed  the  thoughts  of  the  visitors, — Mr.  .Adams  the  elect.  General 
Jackson  the  defeated.  It  chanced  in  the  course  of  the  evening  that  these  two 
persons,  involveil  in  the  throng,  approached  each  other  from  opposite  directions, 


MEETIXG  WITH  GENERAL  J/iCKSON. 


167 


yet  without  knnwlni,''  it.      Siulclenly,  as  they  wero  almost  toi^ether,  tho  jjersoiis 
around,  seeing  what  was  to  happen,  by  a  sort  of  instinct  stepped  aside,  and  left 


OPKNINT,    (-)!■•   Till-    \\K\V- 
CANAl.,    IN     ISJ5. 


jturi^CtifrO  jao. 


them  face  to  face.  Mr.  Adams 
was  by  himself:  General  Jack- 
son had  a  large,  handsome?  lady 

on  his  arm.     They  looked  at  each  other  for  a  moment ;  and  then  General  Jack- 
son moved  forward,  and,  reaching  out  his  long  arm,  said,  '  Mow  do  you  do,  Mr 


1 68  JOHN  QUINCY  ADAMS. 

Adams  ?  I  give  you  my  left  hand  ;  for  the  right,  as  you  see,  is  devoted  to  the 
fair.  I  hope  you  are  very  well,  sir.'  All  this  was  gallantly  and  heartily  said 
and  done.  Mr.  Adams  took  the  general's  hand,  and  said,  with  chilling  cold- 
ness, '  Very  well,  sir  ;  I  hope  General  Jackson  is  well.' 

"  It  was  curious  to  see  the  Western  planter,  the  Indian  fighter,  the  stern 
soldier,  who  had  written  his  country's  glory  in  the  blood  of  the  enemy  at  New 
Orleans,  genial  and  gracious  in  the  midst  of  a  court  ;  while  the  old  courtier  and 
diplomat  was  stiff,  rigid,  cold  as  a  statue.  It  was  all  the  more  remarkable  from 
the  fact,  that,  four  hours  before,  the  former  had  been  defeated,  and  the  latter 
was  the  victor,  in  a  struggle  for  one  of  the  highest  objects  of  human  ambition. 
The  personal  character  of  these  two  individuals  was,  in  fact,  well  expressed  in 
that  chance  meeting, — the  gallantry,  the  frankness,  the  heartiness,  of  the  one, 
which  captivated  all  ;  the  coldness,  the  distance,  the  self-concentration,  of  the 
other,  which  repelled  all." 

Mr.  Adams  was,  to  a  very  remarkable  degree,  abstemious  and  temperate 
in  his  habits  ;  always  rising  early,  and  taking  much  exercise.  When  at  his 
home  in  Ouincy,  he  has  been  known  to  walk  seven  miles  to  Boston  before  break- 
fast. In  Washington,  it  was  said  that  he  was  the  first  man  up  in  the  city,  light 
ing  his  own  fire,  and  applying  himself  to  work  in  his  library  often  long  before 
the  dawn.  He  was  an  expert  swimmer,  and  was  exceedingly  fond  of  batliing ; 
and  was  in  the  habit  in  the  summer,  every  morning,  of  plunging  into  the  Poto- 
mac with  all  the  sportiveness  of  a  boy.  He  sometimes  made  the  journey  from 
Quincy  to  Washington  on  horseback,  accompanied  by  a  single  attendant. 

The  administration  of  Mr.  Adams  was  one  of  the  ablest  and  best  which 
the  country  has  ever  seen  ;  although,  perhaps  for  that  very  reason,  it  was  un- 
eventful. It  was  notal)le  for  being  the  last  one  under  which  partisanship  was 
not  allowed  to  affect  the  public  service.  To  lackson's  administration,  which 
followed,  belongs  the  distinction  of  introducing  the  "Spoils  System,"  under 
which  the  government  offices  are  used  as  a  reward  for  political  service  in  the 
election.  Adams'  administration  was  pure,  because  he  himself  was  pure.  Up- 
right, able,  energetic,  industrious,  and  thoroughly  trained,  he  was  probably  better 
equipped  for  the  presidency  than  any  other  man  who  has  ever  filled  the  chair. 

In  1829  he  was  succeeded  by  General  Jackson,  and  retired  to  his  Massa- 
chusetts home.  Not  long,  however,  was  he  left  in  retirement.  In  1S30  he  was 
nominated  and  elected  to  the  House  of  Representatives.  It  was  supposed  by 
many  that,  having  held  the  office  of  president,  he  would  refuse  to  accept  the 
humbler  post.  There  was  no  precedent  where  a  chief  magistrate  had  afterward 
sat  in  the  House.  All  doubts,  however,  were  soon  set  at  rest  by  his  prompt 
acceptance.  Litde  did  any  one  then  realize  how  greatly  his  service  in  the  lower 
house  of  Congress  would  outweigh  all  that  he  had  hitherto  done  for  his  country, 
or  how  far  its  history  would  ecli{)se  the  fame  of  his  earlier  career. 


AN  EXCITING  CONTEST.  169 

Upon  taking-  his  seat  in  the  house,  he  announced  that  he  should  hold  him- 
self bound  to  no  party.  Probably  there  was  never  a  member  of  the  house  more 
devoted  to  his  duties.  He  was  usually  the  first  in  his  place  in  the  morniny,  and 
the  last  to  leave  his  seat  in  the  evening.  Not  a  measure  could  be  brought  for- 
ward, and  escape  his  scrutiny.  The  batde  which  Mr.  Adams  fought,  almost 
singly,  against  the  pro-slavery  party  in  the  government,  was  sublime  in  its  moral 
daring  and  heroism.  I'"or  persisting  in  presenting  petitions  for  the  abolition  of 
slavery,  he  was  threatenetl  with  indictment  by  the  grand  jury,  with  expulsion 
from  the  house,  with  assassination  ;  but  no  threats  coultl  intimidatt;  him,  and  his 
final  triumph  was  complete.  Congress,  yielding  to  the  pro-slavery  spirit  of  the 
South,  passed  a  resolve  in  January,  1837,  "  that  all  petitions  relating  to  slavery, 
without  being  printed  or  referred,  shall  be  laid  on  the  table,  and  no  action  shall 
be  had  thereon."  Some  of  the  pro-slavery  party  forged  a  petition,  as  if  from 
slaves,  to  see  if  Mr.  Adams  would  dare  to  present  it. 

Till-;  FOR(;i:i)   nrmiox. 

On  the  6th  of  February,  1S37,  Mr.  Adams  rose  with  this  forged  petition  in 
his  hand,  and  said  :  "  1  hold  a  paper  purporting  to  come  from  slaves.  I  wish  to 
know  if  such  a  paper  comes  within  the  order  of  the  house  respecting  petitions." 

The  sensitiveness  of  the  house  upon  this  subject  may  be  inferred  from  the 
fact  that  a  storm  of  indignation  was  instantly  roused.  Waddy  Thompson  of 
South  Carolina,  Charles  E.  Haynes  of  Georgia,  Dixon  H.  Lewis  of  Alabama, 
sprang  to  the  Hoc  r,  presenting  resolutions,  "that  John  Ouincy  Adams,  by 
attempting  to  pres  nt  a  petition  purporting  to  be  from  slaves,  has  been  guilty  of 
gross  disrespect  to  the  house,  and  that  he  be  instantly  brought  to  the  bar  to 
receive  the  severe  censure  of  the  speaker." 

Never  were  assailants  more  thoroughly  discomfited.  "  Mr,  Speaker,"  said 
Mr.  Adams,  "  to  prevent  die  consumption  of  time,  I  ask  the  gentlemen  to  modify 
their  resolution  a  little,  so  that,  when  I  come  to  the  bar  of  the  house,  I  may  not, 
by  a  word,  put  an  end  to  it.  I  did  not  present  the  petition.  I  said  that  I  had  a 
paper  purporting  to  be  a  petition  from  slaves  ;  and  I  asked  the  speaker  whether 
he  considered  such  a  paper  as  included  in  the  general  order  of  the  house,  that 
all  petidons  relating  to  slavery  should  be  laid  upon  the  table.  I  intended  to 
take  the  decision  of  the  speaker  before  I  went  one  step  toward  presenting  that 
petition.     This  is  \\\(t  fact. 

"  I  adhere  to  the  right  of  petition.  Where  is  your  law  which  says  the  mean, 
the  low,  the  degraded,  shall  be  deprived  of  the  right  of  petition  ''.  Petition  is 
supplication,  entreaty,  prayer.  Where  is  the  degree  of  vice  or  immorality  which 
shall  deprive  the  citizen  of  the  right  to  supplicate  for  a  boon,  or  to  pray  for 
mercy  ?  Where  is  such  a  law  to  be  found  ?  It  does  not  belong  to  the  most  abject 
despotism.     There  is  no  absolute  monarch  on  earth  who  is  not  compelled,  by 


I70  JOHN  QUIXCY  ADAM^. 

the  constitution  of  his  country,  to  receive  the  petitions  of  his  people,  whosoever 
tliey  niiiy  be.  The  Snltan  of  Constantinople;  cannot  walk  the  streets,  and  retuse 
to  receive  petitions  tVoin  the  meanest  and  vilest  in  the  huul.  I'he  rii^ht  ot  peti- 
tion belongs  to  all  ;  and,  so  far  from  rc^fiisint^  to  presiMit  a  petition  because  it 
mi,nht  come  from  those  low  in  the  estimatit)n  of  the  world,  it  wouKl  l)e  an  aiUli- 
tional  inci-ntive,  if  such  an  incentive;  were  wanting." 

After  a  debate;  of  extreme  bitterness,  running;-  throui^h  four  days,  only 
twenty  votes  could  l)e  founel  to  cast  any  c(;nsure  upon  Mr.  Adams.  Theire  was 
perhaps  never  a  fiercer  battle  fought  in  l(>L;islative  halls  than  Mr.  .\dams  wa^j^ed, 
for  nearly  a  score  of  vears,  with  the;  partisans  of  slave;ry  in  Congress.  In  t;\i;ry 
encounter  he  canu;  off  victor.  .At  the  a<;e  of  seventy-four  he  appeared  in  the; 
Supreme  Court  e)f  the  Cnite-d  .State;s,  afte-r  an  absence  fmm  that  court  of  thirty 
j'ears.  to  plead  the;  cause  e)f  a  fe-w  frie-ndle'ss  negroes,  the;  Amistael  captive;s,  who, 
with  their  e)wn  strong'  arms,  Iku'  rree;d  tlumiselves  from  the  man-ste'alers.  1  lis 
effort  was  crowneel  with  complete;  succe'ss  ;  and  the  poor  .Mi'icans,  abundantly 
furnished  with  the;  implements  of  civilizeel  life;,  were  returne;el  to  the  home;s  frcjin 
which  they  had  bee-n  so  ruthle;ssly  torn. 

"I  wii.i.   I'l  r  •nil-:  i^uKsrinN   mvsi:i,i' ! " 

In  lS_^9  Ce)ni;ress  was  tor  a  time  seriously  elisor<j;-anize'd  in  conse:(|ue'nce  e^f 
two  delegations  appearing"  from  Xe;w  |e;rsev,  e-ach  claiming-  the  e'lection.  \\\ 
usai^e,  the  cK'rk  of  the  preceding"  Ce)noress,  on  the  lirst  assembling-,  acts  as 
chairman  until  a  speaker  is  chosen.  Whe^n,  in  callinu-  the  re)ll,  the  clerk  came 
to  New  Jersey,  he  stated  that,  as  the  ti\e;  se'ats  of  the  memlx'rs  from  that  .State 
were  contested,  he  should  pass  o\er  those  names.  A  violent  de;bate  ensue'd. 
I'or  four  ela\s  llu're:  was  anarchy,  and  it  was  founel  impossible;  to  eirganize  the 
house.  Mr.  Adams,  elurin^'  all  this  scene  of  confusion,  sat  ([uietly  eno-ai^ed  in 
writinj,^-,  apparently  takin_o-  no  interest  in  the  debate-,  but  watching  intently  for 
the  moment  when  he  coulel  effectually  make  a  move;me;nt. 

On  the  morning  of  the  fourth  day,  the  clerk  again  commenceel  calling  the 
roll.  \\'lvn  he  reacheel  New  Jersey,  he  again  repeated,  "as  these  seats  are 
conteste-d,"  whe'fi  Mr.  Aelams  sprang  to  the  lloor,  anel  in  cle-ar,  shrill  tones,  which 
penetrated  every  portion  of  the  house,  crieel  e)ut, — 

"I  rise  to  interrupt  the  clerk." 

A  multitude  of  voices  shouted,  "  He;ar  him  !  hear  him  ! — hear  Je)hn  Ouincy 
Adams  ! " 

In  an  instant,  there  was  profound  silence.  lAery  eye  was  riveted  upon 
that  venerable  olel  man,  whose  years  and  honors,  and  purity  of  character,  coni- 
iianded  the  respect  of  the  bitterest  of  his  foes,  b'or  a  moment  he  paused  :  and 
there  was  such  stillness  that  the  fall  of  a  pin  might  have  been  heard.  Then,  in 
those  tones  of  intensity  which  ever  arrested  the  attention  of  the  house,  he  said,— 


PUTT/XG    Tin-:   QUESTION.  171 

*' It  was  not  my  intciuioii  to  take  any  part  in  ihcsi^  extraordinary  procc-ctl- 
iiiL^-'s.  I  Iiad  hopcil  that  this  iioiis(>  would  siiccct-d  in  ori^aniziiiL,''  itself.  'I'his  is 
not  the  time  nor  place  to  cliscuss  the  merits  of  conllictini;'  claimants  :  that  subject 
belongs  to  the  I  louse  of  RepresiMitaliNcs.  What  a  s[)eclacl(!  w(;  here  pn  sent ! 
We  do  not  and  cannot  ori^ani/e  ;  and  why  ?  lie-cause  tin;  clerk  of  this  house — 
the  mere  clerk,  whom  \\v.  create,  whom  we  employ--usiu'ps  the  t/irciir.  and  sets 
us,  the  vicei^erents  of  the  whole-  AuKM'ican  p(;o])le,  at  defiance.  .\\u\  wh.it  is 
this  clerk  of  yours?  Is  he  to  suspend,  by  his  mere-  ne^alive,  the  functions  of 
L^overnmenl,  and  put  an  end  to  this  C"on!:;r(-ss.  I  1<;  refuses  to  call  the  roll.  It 
is  in  )'our  power  to  compel  him  to  call  it.  if  he  will  not  do  it  \<)luntarily." 

Here  h(-  was  interrupted  b)-  a  member,  who  slated  that  the  cl(;rk  c;ould  not 
be  com[)c:lled  to  call  the  roll,  as  he  would  resign  rather  than  do  so. 

"Well,  sir,  l(-t  him  resit^n,"  continued  Mr.  Adams,  "and  we  ma)-  possibly 
discover  some;  way  \)\  which  we  can  L;<'t  aloni;'  without  the  aid  of  his  all-ijowir- 
tul  talent,  learning-,  and  t^cnius.  If  we  cannot  organize  in  any  other  way,  if 
this  cl(.!rk  of  yours  will  not  cons(,-nt  to  our  discharminic  the  trust  confuUnl  to  us 
by  our  constituents,  then  let  us  imitate  the  example  of  the  \'irL,uni;x  House  of 
lUir^csses,  which,  wlu.-n  the  colonial  (iovernor  Dinwiddie  orderetl  it  to  disperse, 
refused  to  obey  the?  imperious  and  insultiuL;-  mandate,  and  lik(;  ii/vii " 

Here  there  was  such  a  burst  of  applause-  from  the  whole  hoiis(;,  that,  for  a 
moment,  his  xoici;  was  drowned.  Cheer  u])on  cheer  rose,  shakino-  the  walls  of 
the  Capitol.  As  soon  as  he  could  a^^ain  bi;  heard  Ik;  submittetl  a  motion,  re- 
quiriuLi;'  the  clcM-k  to  call  the  roll.  "  How  shall  iIk-  cpiestion  be  put?"  The 
voice  of  Mr.  Adams  was  h(-ard  risinj^  above  the  tumult,  as  he  cried  out,  "  I  in- 
tend to  put  th(;  ([uc;stion  mys(,-lf !  " 

Another  burst  of  ap[jlause  followed  :  when  Mr.  I)arnwell  Rhett  of  .South 
Carolina  leaped  upon  one  of  th(-  dc-sks,  and  shout(Kl,  "I  ino\-e  that  the  llf)n. 
John  Oiiincy  Adams  take  the  chair  of  th(;  spt;ak(;r  of  \.\\v.  house,  and  officiate  as 
presiding-  otTicer  till  the  house  be  orij;-ani/.ed  by  the  election  of  its  constitutional 
officers.     As  many  as  are  ai,^rced  to  this  will  say  '  Aye  ! '  " 

One  universal,  thunderini^-  "Aye;!"  came;  back  in  response.  Mr.  Adams 
was  conducted  to  th(-  chair,  and  the  house  was  or^ani/ed.  Mr.  Wise  of  \'ir- 
tjinia,  soon  after,  addressinL:'  him,  saiil, — 

"Sir,  I  re_!.j[ard  it  as  the  proudest  hour  of  your  life;  and  if  wh(-n  you  shall 
be  J^^athered  to  your  fathers,  I  w(M-e  asktnl  to  select  the  words  which,  in  my  judi,^- 
ment,  are  b(;st   calculat(-d   to   '^\\r.  at  onc(-'   the  character  of  the  man,  I  would  ' 
inscribe  upon  your  tomb  this  sentence,  'I  will  [)ut  tht;  cpiestion  myself'  " 

In  ianuar\',  1S42,  Mr.  Adams  presented  a  petition  from  forty-fiv(;  citizens 
of  Haverhill,  Mass.,  praying-  for  the  peaceable  dissolution  (jf  the  Union.  The 
pro-slav(;ry  party  in  Congress,  who  where  then  plottinsj;'  the  destruction  of  the 
government,  were  roused   to   a  degree  of  commotion  such  as  even  our  stormy 


172 


JOHN  QUINCY  ADAMS. 


hall  of  lejrislation  has  rarely  witiK^sscd.  They  iii<'t  in  caucus,  and,  findiiif^  that 
they  probably  would  imt  be  abh;  to  cxf^cl  Mr.  Adams  trom  th(!  house;,  drew  \.\\)  a 
series  of  resolutions,  which,  if  adopteil,  would  inllict  upon  him  disgrace  equiva- 
lent to  expulsion.  Mr.  Adams  had  pr(,;sent(Kl  the;  petition,  which  was  most 
resi)tx-tfully  wordi.'tl,  and  had  moNcd  that  it  Ix;  referred  t(j  a  committee  instructed 
to  re|)ort  an  answer,  showing  tlu-;  re-asons  why  the  prayer  ought  ncjt  to  be 
granted. 

It  was  the  25th  of  laiiuary.      The  whole  body  of  the  pro-slavery  |)arty  came 
crowtling  together  int(j  the  house,  prt;par(,'J  to  crush  Mr.  .Adams  forescr.      One 


lM>rsK    (U-     Kl.l'UI.SKN  r.\  I  IVl! 


of  their  number,  Thomas  F.  Marshall  of  Kentucky,  was  appointed  to  read  the 
resolutions,  which  accused  Mr.  Adams  of  high  treason,  of  having  insulted  the 
government,  and  of  meriting  (expulsion  ;  but  for  which  deserved  punishment, 
the  house,  in  its  great  mere)-,  would  substitute  its  si'verest  censure.  With  the 
assumption  of  a  \ery  solemn  and  magisterial  air,  there  being  breathless  silence 
in  the  imposing  audience,  Mr.  Marshall  hurled  the  carefully  [)repared  anathemas 
at  his  victim.  Mr.  Adams  stood  alone,  the  whole  pro-slavery  party  madly 
against  him. 

As  soon  as  the  resolutions  were  read,  every  eye  being   fixed  upon  him,  up 
rose   that  bold  old  man,  whose  scattered  locks  were  whitened   by  seventy-five 


A  CHARCn  OF  TREASON.  173 

years  ;  and  castin;^'  a  witlicrini^  ulaiici;  in  tlu;  direction  of  liis  assailants,  in  a 
clear,  shrill  tone,  trcMiiuloiis  with  siipprcsseil  emotion,  he  said, — 

"  In  rt'ply  to  this  audacious,  atrocious  charge  of  hiL;h  treason,  1  call  for  the 
reading-  of  the  t'irst  parai;raph  of  the  ])eclarati(jn  of  Indepentlence.  /vVin/ //, 
Ki:.\i)  rr !  and  s(;e  what  that  says  of  the  right  of  a  people  to  reform,  to  change, 
and  to  dissoKc  their  u;(>\'ernineiu." 

'i'he  atlilude,  the;  manner,  th(;  tout;,  th('  words  ;  iIk;  xciierahle  old  man,  with 
llashiny;'  eye  and  tlushi'd  che(!k,  and  whosi;  very  form  seemetl  to  e.N|iand  under 
the  inspiration  of  the  occasion, — all  present('d  a  scene;  ov(;rawint;  in  its  sub- 
limity. There  was  breathless  silence  as  that  para^rajih  was  read,  in  defense;  of 
whose  principles  our  fathers  had  jjledi^j^ed  "their  lives,  their  fortunes,  and  their 
sacred  honor."  It  was  a  i^'oud  hour  to  Mr.  .Adams,  as  they  wert;  all  comix'lled 
to  listen,  to  the  words, — 

"That,  to  secure  these  rights,  (;-overnments  are  institut(;d  among  men, 
deriving  their  just  powers  from  the  consent  of  the  governed  ;  and  that,  when- 
ever any  form  of  gcn-erniiKint  becomes  dt.'structive  of  those  ends,  it  is  the  right 
of  the  people  to  alt(,'r  or  abolish  it,  ami  to  institute  new  go\(M-nm(Mit,  laying  its 
foundations  on  such  principles,  and  organizing  its  powers  in  such  form,  as  shall 
seem  most  likely  to  effect  their  safety  and  happiness." 

That  one  sentence  baffled  and  routed  the  foe.  The  heroic  old  man 
looked  around  upon  the  auilience,  and  thundered  out,  "  Reail  that  again  !  "  It 
was  again  read.  Then,  in  a  few  fiery,  logical  words,  he  stateil  his  d(;f(,'nse  in 
terms  which  even  pr(;judiced  minds  could  not  r<;sist.  1  lis  discomfited  assail- 
ants made  sundry  attempts  to  rally.  After  a  conflict  of  eleven  days  they  gave 
up  vanquished,  and  their  resolution  was  ignominiously  laitl  upon  the  table. 

IloXdKS    FROM     rilK    I'KOI'I.K. 

In  the  summer  of  1843  Mr.  Adams  took  a  tour  through  w(;stern  New 
Vork.  His  journey  was  a  perfect  ovation.  In  all  the  leading  cities  Ik;  was 
received  with  the  highest  marks  of  consideration.  The  whole  mass  of  the 
people  rose  to  confer  honor  upon  the  man  who  had  battled  so  nobly  for  human 
rights,  and  whose  public  and  private  character  was  without  a  stain.  The;  greet- 
ing which  he  received  at  Buffalo  was  such  as  that  city  had  never  before  conferred 
upon  any  man.  The  national  llag  was  floating  from  every  masthead.  The 
streets  were  thronged  with  the  multitude,  who  greeted  with  bursts  of  ajiplause 
the  renowned  patriot  and  statesman  as  soon  as  he  appeared.  The  Hon.  Millard 
Fillmore,  subsequently  President  of  the  United  States,  welcomed  him  in  the 
following  words  : — 

"  You  see  here  assembled  the  people  of  our  infant  city,  without  distinction 
of  party,  se.\,  age,  or  condition, — all,  all,  an.xiously  vying  with  each  other  to 
show  their  respect  and  esteem  for  your  public   and  private  worth.     Here   are 


174  JO//X  (jnXCV  ADA.^fS. 

g.ithcrcd,  in  this  vast  iiiiiltitiulc  of  wliat  must  appt'ar  to  you  stranj^e  faces, 
thousands  whose  hearts  ha\(;  vihralcd  to  the  chord  of  sympatiiy  which  youi 
si)eech(;s  have  touch(;d.  1  lere  is  rellectiiiu;  ai^e,  and  ardent  youth,  and  hspinj^' 
ciiiklliood,  to  all  of  whom  your  venerateil  name  is  as  dear  as  household  worils, — 
all  anxious  to  feast  tiieir  eyes  by  a  sii,du  of  that  extraordinary  and  venerable 
man,  i\\Ai  o/d  iiiiiii  i-iix/iiciif.  \.\\n)\\  whos(;  lips  Wisdom  has  distilleil  her  choic(.:st 
nectar,  ilercjyou  see  iJKin  all,  and  read  in  their  eaLji'r  and  joy-t^laildtMied 
count(Miances  and  brightly  beaminiL;'  eyes,  a  welcome,  a  thrice-toKI,  hearlf(;lt, 
soul-stirriuL,"'  w(.'lcome,  to  the  man  whom  thi^'  delii^dit  to  hoiKjr." 

In  January,  1S46,  when  seveiity-cMi^ht  years  of  aj^^e,  he  took  part  in  the 
j^reat  debate  on  the  Orei^on  cpiestion,  dis|)layinLj  intellectual  vit^or,  and  an 
extent  anil  accurac)'  of  accpiaintance  with  the  subject,  which  excited  threat 
admiration.  At  the  close  of  the  session,  on  th(j  17th  of  November,  he;  had  an 
attack  of  i)aralvsis  whih.-  walkiuLf  in  the  strei;ts  of  lioston.  I  le,  however,  so  far 
recove-red,  that  he  soon  resumed  his  official  duties  in  W'ashins^ton.  As  he 
entered  the  house  on  the'  i6th  of  Feliruary,  1S47,  for  the  first  time  since  his 
illness,  t.-vi^ry  member  instincti\ely  rose  in  token  of  respect;  and  Ijy  two  mem 
b('rs  he  was  formally  coikIucUhI  to  his  s(;at.  After  this,  though  constantly 
present,  he  took  little  part  in  the  tlebates. 

It  has  been  said  of  Mr.  Ailams,  that  when  his  body  was  bent  and  his  hair 
silvereil  by  the  lapse  of  fourscore  years,  he  was  accustomed  to  repeat  every  night, 
before  he  slept,  the  prayer  which  his  mother  taught  him  in  his  infant  years. 
TluM'e  is  great  moral  bi;autv  in  the  aspect  of  the  venerable,  world-worn  states- 
man, folding  his  hands  and  repeating,  in  the  simplicity  and  sinct;rity  of  child- 
hood, the  wortls  ; — 

"  X(i\v  I  hiy  nic  duwu  to  slccji, 

I  pray  tlie  Lord  my  soul  to  keep; 

If  I  should  die  liefore  I  wake, 

I  jiray  tlie  Lord  uiy  soul  to  lake." 

On  the  3  I  St  of  February,  184S,  he  rose  on  the  lloor  of  Congress,  with  a 
paper  in  his  hand,  t<^  addnjss  the  s[)(;aker.  Suddenly  he  fell,  again  stricken  by 
paralysis,  and  was  caught  in  the  arms  of  those  around  him.  P'or  a  time  he  was 
senseless,  as  he  was  conveyed  to  a  sofa  in  the  rotunda.  With  reviving  con- 
sciousness he  opened  his  eyi^s,  looketl  calmly  around,  and  said,  "T/iis  is  the  last 
of  earth  r  then  after  a  moment's  pause,  he  added,  "  /  am  content."  These  were 
his  last  words.  llis  family  were  summoned  to  his  side;  and  in  the  apart 
ment  of  the  s|)eaker  of  the  house,  beneath  the  dome  of  the  Capitol, — the 
theatre  of  his  labors  and  his  triumphs, — he  soon  breathed  his  last. 

The  voices  of  denunciation  were  now  hushed,  and  all  parties  united  in 
tributes  of  honor  tt)  one  of  the  purest  patriots,  and  one  of  the  most  distinguished 
statesmen,  America  has  produced. 


HENRY  CLAY, 

POPULAR    HBRO,     I'^VTRIOT.    AXID     STATIiSM  AN. 

/rril   the   close   of   tlie   iL;re;it  civil  war   in   1S65  disap- 

[jearc'd  from  our  politics  the  L^rc.'it  problem  which  foi 

half  a    century   hail   absorljcd   the  attentioii   and 

tasked     the    aliilities     of     American      statesmen 

'rhrouu;hout    that    period    there   was   always   one 

overshadowini;'    subject.      W'hate'ver    other    ques 

tions  ot  domestic  policy  came  up, — tariff,  currency, 

internal  improvements,    State    rights, — they  wi;rc 

always  subordinate  to  the  main  (piestion,  how  to 

])reserve  the  Union  and  slavery  toL;(;ther.      .Some, 

like  Calhoun,  were  ready  to  al)andon  the  Union  to 

sav<;  slavery;  others,  like  (iarrison,  were  ready  to 

abandon   the   L'nion   to  destroy  slavery;  but  between 

th(;se  extrtMiie.s  stood  a  L;reat  body  of  able  and  patricjtic  statesmen,  who 

loved   a!ul  prized  the  Union  above  all  else,  and  who.  to  sa\'e  it,  would   make 

any  sacrifice,  woukl  join  in  any  compromise.     At  the  head  of  these,  for  more 

than  fifty  years,  towered  the  threat  figure  of  Henry  Clay. 

Not  often  tlo('s  a  man  whose  life;  Is  spent  in  puri:ly  civil  affairs  become  such 
a  popular  liero  and  idol  as  did  Clay — especially  wIkmi  it  is  his  fate  never  to 
reach  the  hiL^h*  \)h\cr.  in  th(;  people's  gift.  "  Was  there  ever,"  says  Parton, 
"a  public  man,  1.  '  at  the  head  of  a  state,  so  liehjved  as  he  ?  Who  ever  heard 
such  cheers,  so  hearty,  distil.  :t  .and  riiiL^ini;',  as  those  which  his  name  evoked.'' 
Men  shed  tears  at  his  defeat,  and  women  went  to  l)ed  sick  from  pure  sympathy 
witli  his  disappointment.  1  le  couUl  not  travel  during-  the  last  thirty  \  :u  :,  of  his 
life,  but  onl\'  make //-(^'77>\u'.s'.  Wdieii  he  left  home  the  i)ul)lic  sei/eil  him  and 
bore  him  along  o\-er  the  land,  the  committee  of  one  .State  passing  him  on  to  the 
committee  of  another,  ami  the  hurrahs  of  one  town  dying  a^'"\y  as  those  of  the 
next  caught  his  ear."  One  evidence  of  his  popularit\' Is  the  great  number  of 
children  named  in  his  honor.  Aw  l-'ngllsh  woman  traveling  in  .America  during 
the  I'resitlential  canxass  of  i.'^44  writ(,'S  that  at  least  three-fourths  of  all  the  boy 
bailies  liorn  in  that  \'ear  mrist  ha\e  been  named  for  1  bnry  Clay.  "  Vacu  now, 
more  than  thirty  years  after  his  death,"  says  Carl  .Scluirz,  writing  In  1SS6,  "  \vc 
may  hear  old   men,  who  knew  him  in  the  days  of  his  strength,  speak  of  him 


II 


177 


1/8  IIIiXRV  CLAY. 

with  an  cMithiisiasm  and  affection  sci  warm  and  fresh  as  to  con\ince  us  that  the 
recoihiction  ot  having;-  followed  his  U'atlershii)  is  amonL;'  the  ileart:st  treasurc-s  of 
their  mcMnory.  " 

Ilenry  Clay  was  horn  in  1  lano\(;r  county,  near  Richmond,  X'ir^inia,  in  cjne 
of  the  darkest  tlays  of  the  Re\ohition, — the  year  of  1777;  the  year  of  the  battles 
f)f  ih-andywinc;  and  ( it-rmanlown,  before  y('t  the  i^lad  news  of  liur^oyne's  sur- 
render had  come  to  cheer  the  hearts  of  tht;  stru-'-lini^'  colonists.  His  father,  a 
poor  I'aptist  preacher,  dit:d  when  Henry  was  four  years  old,  leaving-  a  wif('  and 
seven  cliildren.  'I'here  is  a  stor\-  that  while  his  body  was  lyin^- in  tlu-  house,  a 
party  ot  ilritish  cavalry  made  a  rait!  throu-h  th'>  neiohborhootl,  and  left  on 
Mrs.  Clay's  tabh;  a  handhil  of  silver  to  pay  for  some  pronert\'  the\-  had  taken  ; 
but  that  as  soon  as  they  were  ^one.  even  in  her  poNerly  and  .L;rief  the  spirited 
woir.an  sw(;pt  tlu;  money  from  the  table  and  thriiw  it  in  the  fireplace. 

Cla\-'s  boyhood  was  that  of  the  t_\i)ical  "self-made  man," — a  time;  of  hard 
laljor,  po\-erty,  and  small  opportunities.  "We  catch  our  In-st  glimpse  of  the 
boy  when  he  sat  in  a  little  Iol;-  school-housc',  without  windows  or  lloor,  one  of  a 
hummin--  score  ot  shoeless  boys,  wher('  a  L;-ood-natured,  irritable,  drinkinc- 
English  schoolmastfM-  taught  him  to  read,  write,  antl  cipher  as  far  as  Practice. 
This  was  the  only  school  he  ever  attended,  and  that  was  all  he  learned  at  it.  1  lis 
widowed  mother  with  her  seven  youni;-  children,  her  little  farm,  and  two  or  three 
slaves,  could  do  no  more  for  him.  Next,  we  see  him  a  tall,  awkward,  slender 
striplinL;  of  thirtec'n,  still  barefoot,  clad  in  homespun  l)utternut  of  his  mother's 
makint^-,  tilling;-  lu^r  fields,  and  .L^oin^  to  mill  with  his  ba^-  of  corn  strapped  u|)on 
the  family  pony."  At  fourteen,  in  the  year  \-<i)\.  a  place  was  found  for  him  in  a 
Richmonil  drug-  store,  where  he  served  as  errand  l)oy  antl  voun-est  clerk  for 
one  year. 

At  this  time  occurred  an  e\ent  which  deculed  his  future.  His  mother  hav- 
ing- married  ai^ain,  her  husband  had  inlluence  enough  to  obtain  for  the  youth  a 
clerkship  in  tin;  office  of  the  Court  of  Chancery.  The  young  g(-ntl(-men 
employed  in  that  office  long  rememljered  the  entrance  among  diem  of  their  mnv 
comrade.  He  was  fifteen  at  the?  time,  Init  very  tall  for  his  age,  very  slender, 
ver\- awkward,  and  far  from  handsome.  His  good  mother  had  arra)-t-d  him  in 
a  tLill  suit  of  |)ep[)t'r-and-salt  "  figinny,"  an  old  \'irginia  fabric  of  silk  and  cotton. 
His  shirt  and  shirt-collar  were  stiflly  starcheil.  and  his  coat-tail  stood  out  boldly 
behind  him.  The  dandy  clerks  of  Richmond  exchanged  glances  as  this  gawky 
figure  entered  and  took  his  place  at  a  desk  to  begin  work. 

As  he  grew  older,  the  raw  and  awkward  stripling  became  a  young  man 
whose  every  movement  had  a  winning  or  commanding  grace?,  ilandsomehe 
never  was  ;  but  his  ruckly  face  and  abundant  light  hair,  the  grandeur  of  his  fore- 
heail.  and  the  speaking  intelligence  of  his  countenance,  more?  than  atoned  for 
the  irregularity  of  his  features.      liut  of  all  the  physical  gifts  bestowed  by  nature 


.-;  A7.s7.\7;  LAlllliR. 


1/9 


upon  this  fa\(>r<'(l  cliild.  t!ic  most  iiiii([uc  and  adiniraljlt;  was  his  voice.  'Hicrc 
was  a  tlc[)th  ot  tone  in  it,  .1  \-ohinu',  a  compass,  a  rich  and  tender  liarni(jn\', 
wliicli  imcsted  all  hv  said  with  maiesty.  I'arton  w  I'ites  that  he  heard  it  last  wlvn 
Clay  was  an  old  man,  i)ast  sext-nty  ;  and  all  hi;  said  was  a  tew  words  of  acknoul- 
edL,;-meiit  to  a  i^Toiip  of  ladies  in  the  lar^'est  hall  in  Philadelphia.  "lie  spoke 
only  in  the  ordinary  tone  of  comt'rsation  ;  bnt  his  xoice  filled  the  room  as  the 
or^an  fills  a  threat  cathedral,  and  th(-  ladies  stood  spellbound  as  the  swelliiiij;' 
catlences  rolled  about  the  vast  apartment.  We  ha\-e  heard  much  of  W  hiteileld's 
pierciiiL;-  x'oice  and  Patrick  Henry's  silvery  tones,  but  we  cannot  belit'xe  that 
either  oi  those  natural  orators  ])osscsscd  an  or^an  su[)erior  to  C  hiN's  majestic 
bass.  No  one  who  e\-er  ln'ard  him  speak  will  timl  it  dilficult  to  believe  what 
tradition  reports,  that  Ik;  was  the  |)eer- 
](;ss  star  of  the  Richmtmd  DcbatiiiL;' 
.Societ}'  in   1  7^5," 

Ihit  he  soon  disco\ert'd  that  these; 
L;ifts  would  not  L;et  him  a  i)ayinn'  practice 
as  an  attorne\'  in  Richmond  so  cpiickly 
as  he  desircnl  :  and  as  liis  mother  and 
step-father  h.id  removetl  to  Kentucky  in 
1792,  he  resoKed  to  follow  tliem  to  thi; 
western  wilds,  and  there  "  t;ro'\v  up  with 
the  country.  "  1  le  was  in  his  twenty- 
tirst  year  when  he  left  Richmoiul,  with 
his  license  to  practice  as  an  attorney, 
but  with  little  else,  in  his  pocket. 

A  tall,  plain,  |)oor,  frieiulless  youth 
was  youiiL;'  1  lenry  Clay,  when  he  set  up 
in  Lexington,  and  announced  himselt  a 
candidate  for  practice  as  an  attorney. 
He  had  not  even  the  means  of  paxinL,^ 

his  board,  "I  remem])er,"  he  said,  in  a  speech  in  1S42,  "how  comfortal)lc  1 
thouL;ht  I  should  be  if  1  couKl  make  /"lOO,  X'iri^inia  money,  per  year;  anil 
with  what  ilelinht  I  received  my  tirst  fifteen-shillinu-  lee.  My  hopes  were 
mori;  than  ri'ali/eil.      1  immediately  rushed  into  a  lucrative  j)ractice." 

Less  than  two  xc.u's  after  his  arrival  at  L(;xin^ton,  in  .\pril,  i7()<).  Clay  had 
achicvetl  a  ])osiiion  sufticiently  secure  to  ask  tor  and  to  obtain  the  haml  ot 
'..ucretia  Hart,  the  daughter  of  a  m.m  of  hi^h  character  and  prominent  staniliiiL; 
in  the  .State.  .She  was  a  \'<'r\' estimable  woman,  and  a  most  devoted  wife  to  him. 
His  prosperity  increased  rapidly  :  so  that  soon  he  was  able  to  purchase  Ash- 
land, an  estate  of  some  si.\  hundred  acres,  near  Lexington,  which  afterward 
became  famous  as  1  lenry  Clay's  home. 


l8o 


JJEXRY  CLAY. 


Durlns^-  the  first  thirtcMMi  years  of  Henry  Clay's  active  lif;  as  a  politician,  he 
appears  only  as  the  c-li>([uent  champion  of  the  policy  of  Mr.  jetter^on,  whom  he 
esteemed  the  first  and  liest  of  living-  men.  After  deft.-ndin!:^  him  on  the  stump 
andaidini^-  him  in  the  Kentucky  Lej^islature,  he  was  sent  in  i  Soo,  when  scarcely 
thirty,  to  till  lor  one  term  a  seat  in  the  Senate  of  the  United  Slates,  made  \acant 

by  th(.-  rcsiL^nalion  ot  one 
of  the  Kentucky  .Senators. 
ReturniuL;'  home  at  tlie  end 
of  the  session.  In-  re-eiUercxl 
the  Kentucky  I  .e^islalure. 
In  support  lit  rre-^ideiu  |et- 
lersoii's  policx'  ot  niui-inter- 
cours(;  \vilh  the-  warrin;^ 
nations  of  Juirope,  who  were 
preyin;^-  upon  Anieric:an  com- 
merce, Mv.  Ckiy  proposed 
th.it  memhers  ot  the  Legis- 
lature should  liind  them- 
selves to  wear  nothing-  that 
was  not  ot  American  manu- 
facture. A  federalist  mem- 
ber, i;^norant  of  the  tact  that 
tin;  retusal  of  the  people  to 
use  f)r(ML;ii  imports  had 
caused  the  repeal  (~»1  the 
.Stamp  Act,  anil  would  ha\'e 
postponed  the  Re\-olution 
but  fir  the  accident  at 
Lexington,  denounced  Mr. 
Clax's  proposition  as  the  act 
ot  a  dema^'OL^iK'.  Cla\'  chal- 
lenged this  ill-inf  )rmed  gen- 
tleman, and  a  ilutd  resulted, 
in  which  two  shots  were  (;.\- 
chaii'_;('d,  anil  !ioth  antau^onists  were  slii^htK'  wounded.  Idected  aL;aiii  to  the 
.Sen;itt;  for  an  une.\piri.'(l  term,  he  re  appearetl  in  that  body  in  iSuy,  and  sat 
(.liiriiii;'  two  sessions. 

Mr.  Clay's  public  lite  proper  be;;;ui  in  Xovcmber,  iSii,  as  a  nu-mber  of 
the  Ibiuse  of  Kepresentatixes.  lie  was  immediateb' elected  speaker  by  the 
war  pari)-,  by  the  decisi\e  majorit)-  of  thirty-one.  lie  was  then  thirty-four  years 
of  a-e. 


AN    i'l.l>    ViK 


CI. AY  AS  SP/:AK/-.R.  iSi 

It  is  aj^M'ccd  that  tn  ]  Icnr\'  C  la\',  Speaker  of  the  1  louse  i.^'i  Represeiitativi'S, 
more  th<m  to  any  other  imhvidu.il,  we  owe  the  war  ot  i  S  i  2.  When  the  1  lousn 
hesitated,  it  was  he  who,  ilescentHn^'  troni  the  chair,  spoke  so  as  to  re-assure  it. 
\\  lien  I'resident  Mailison  faltered,  it  was  the  stimulus  of  Cla\'s  ri'sistless  [)res- 
eiue  tliat  put  heart  into  him  a<'ain.  Clav  it  was  whose  clarion  notes  ran''-  out 
c)\er  departing;-  reL,qnients,  antl  kindled  within  them  the  martial  fire;  and  it  was 
C  lay's  speeches  which  the  sokliers  loxcd  to  read  1)\'  the  camp  lire.  When  the 
war  was  ^oiuL;'  all  wron^'  in  the  tu'st  year,  President  Madison  wished  to  appoint 
Clay  comm.mder-in-chief  of  the;  land  force's;  but,  said  (i.dlatin,  "What  shall  we 
do  without  liim  in  the  I  louse  of  Representatives?" 

In  1  S  1  4,  Cla)'  was  st-nt  with  four  other  commissioners  to  (Ihent,  in  liel^ium, 
to  arrange  the  terms  of  a  peace  with  l'ai!_;land.  A  sini^le  anecdote  will  illustr.iti* 
the  impression  h(_;  (jv(;rywhere  ])roduced.  An  octo:_;cnarian  llritish  earl,  who 
had  retired  h'om  public  life  because  of  his  years,  but  who  still  cherished  a  natiu'al 
interest  in  public  men  and  measures,  beini;'  struck  l)y  iht;  impression  made  in  the 
aristocratic  circles  of  London  liy  tht'  American  commissioners,  then  on  their  way 
home  from  (dient,  requestetl  a  fri(Mnl  to  brint;"  them  to  see  him  at  his  house,  to 
which  his  ^rowini^'  intirmities  contined  him.  Thi;  \'isit  was  jiromptly  and  che(  r- 
fully  paiil,  and  the  oblis^ine-  frienel  afterwartis  in(|uired  of  the  old  loi'd  as  to  the 
impression  th<?  Americans  had  made  upon  him.  "Ah  I"  said  tin;  \'eteran,  with 
the  "  li^rht  of  othf-r  days"  ^leaminL;'  from  his  eyes,  "1  liked  them  all,  but  I  liked 
the  Kentucky  man  best."      It  was  so  (.:\  cry  where. 

From  1S15,  when  he  returnc'd  from  luirope,  imtil  1X25,  when  he:  became 
Secretar\'  of  .State  under  [ohn  (juincy  Ailams.  Clay  w,is  .Speaker  of  the  I  louse 
of  R.epresentati\  c's.  H<,'  was  conlV;ss<Hlly  tlie  best  presidin^•  ollicer  that  aiiv 
cleliberati\'e  bod\'  in  America  has  e\-er  known,  ami  nom;  was  e\ cr  more  se\erely 
tri(.'d.  The  intensity  antl  bitterness  of  party  feeling-  during;'  the  earlier  portion 
of  his  speakership  cannot  now  be  realized  except  by  the  few  who  rememlier  those 
tlays.  (  >n  the  lloor  of  the  house',  Mr.  Clay  wa.s  often  impetuous  in  discussion, 
and  delighted  to  relieve  th<'  tedium  of  debate,  and  modif\'  the  bitterness  of  antag- 
onism, bv  a  sportive  jest  or  livelv  re[)artee.  (  )n  one  occasion,  ( ieneral  .Smythe 
of  \'ir'dnia,  who  often  attlictetl  the  house;  bv  tin;  tirvness  and  verbositx'  of  his 
haranL,^ues,  hatl  paused  in  the  miiklle  of  a  s|)eech,  which  seemed  likely  to  endure; 
forever,  to  send  to  the  library  for  a  book  from  which  he  wished  to  note  a  jkis- 
.saL^c.  I'ixinL;'  liis  eye  on  Mr.  Cla\',  hi;  obser\ed  the  Kt'iitucki.in  writhing;'  in  his 
seat,  as  it  liis  patience  had  already  l)eei'>  exhaustinl.  "  \'ou,  sir,"  remarked 
Smvthe,  addressini^'  him,  "  speak  for  the  present  ^eiier.ition  :  but  I  speak  f  >r 
posterity."  "  Yes,"  said  Clay,  "an<l  \'ou  seem  resoKcd  to  speak  imtil  tin.-  arri\al 
of  your  audience." 

C)nly  once  in  the  course  of  his  Ioiil;  repres(;ntativc  career  was  Clay  obliL;i-d 
to  canvass  fi)r  his  election,  and  he  was  never  defeated,  nor  ever  could  be,  |)e'fort; 


IS 3  IfJLXKV  CL.IV. 

;i  i)uf)Ii(:  th.it  ln'  could  |)iTsi)n;ilI\'  mci-Laml  .uMrcs-;.  I'lii;  oiv  siMi'rl'iiii',;'  nrdi-al 
to  \vhii:h  he  was  suliicctrd,  tollowcd  the  [)assaL;(:  ot  liic  "  Loinix'nsatioii  Art"  of 
I S 1 6,  \vhrrt;l)y  Coii'^rc-iS  siil)stitiitrd  lor  its  ini"  di<-in  iMti;  a  lixrd  salar\'  of 
5151)1)  to  each  iivinhiM-.  I'his  act  cxcitc(l  ^^rcal  h(jstihty  i.'-,[)c-cially  in  ihu-  \\  i'-.t, 
then  \cr\'  pi  )oi\ 

Whih:  caiuassin._>-  tlic  ih'strict.  Mr.  Clav  <-ncouiitfi-cd  an  old  hiintci-,  who 
li  id  alwax's  licfori;  lui-ii  his  wai'iii  h'inul,  hut  was  ikjw  o[)i)osrd  lo  his  ri--clcction 
oil  account  ol  the  C'oiii|)(M"isation  Hill.  "  1  la\(,'  you  a  ^jood  rillr.  ip,\-  iVicud?" 
asked  Mr.  Claw  "  \ Cs,"  "1)1(1  it  <'\cr  llasli  ?  "  "  <  )iic(;  onK,"  he  rcplicil. 
*'  W  hat  did  \'ou  do  with  it. — throw  it  awav  ^  "  "  Xo  ;  I  [mht'd  tlii-  llint,  tried  it 
aj^ain,  and  lirouL;ht  down  the  ^anie."  "  I  laxc  I  ever  lla-^hed,  but  upon  the  Coni- 
peiisation  ISill?"  "  Xo  !  "  "Will  \'ou  throw  im-  away?"  "Xo,  no!"  cw- 
claimed  the  hunter  with  c;nthusiasni.  ncarU'  overpowered  li\-  his  feelinL;s  ;  "I 
will  pick  the  llint,  and  try  you  ai^ain  !  "  He  was  ever  afterward  a  w.irm  sup- 
porter of  .Mr.  Clay. 

Illi:     1  AMolS    "MlsSoriU    roMl'|MM|>i:," 

In  March,  iSiS,  a  petition  tor  the' admission  of  Missouri  into  the  I'nion  was 
pres(;nted  in  Congress  ;  and  then  lie^^an  that  lon^;'  and  hitter  itru:^^le  over 
sla\ery,  which,  after  convulsing'  the  countrv  fo'-  nearlv  half  a  centurv,  was  iin.dlv 
ended  on  the  hanks  of  the  .\|)poniatto\,  in  iSoi.  "  .Xo  -,ooner  had  the  dehate 
bt^Li'nn,"  says  .Schur/,  "than  it  became  clear  that  the  [)hilosophical  anti-slavi'ry 
sentiment  of  the  rex'olutionai'y  [)eriod  had  entirelv  I'eased  to  have  aiiv  inlluence 
upon  current  thoueht  in  the  .South.  i'lie  abolition  of  the  foi-ei'^ii  slav(?  trade' 
hail  not,  ;is  had  been  hoped,  pre|)aretl  the  wa\-  for  the  abolition  of  slaverv  or 
weakened  the  slave  interest  in  any  sense.  (  )n  the  contrarv,  slaverx' IkuI  been 
immenselv  streiiL^thened  bv  an  economic  development  makiu'^-  it  more  priMita])le 
than  it  ever  hatl  been  betore.  '\'\\r.  invention  of  the  cotton  e-in  bv  j'di  W  hitney, 
in  179,;,  had  made  the  culture;  of  cotton  a  \-er\'  productivi;  source  of  wealth.  In 
l>^i)0  th(;  t'.\[)ortation  oi  cotton  ti'om  the  I  nited  .States  was  10,000,000  pounds, 
\'alued  at  55,703, ojo.  In  iSj(j  the  \alu<,'  of  the  cotton  export  was  nearlv  .S20,- 
000,000,  almost  all  of  it  the  |)roduct  of  slave  labor.  I'he  value  of  slaves  maybe 
said  to  have  at  least  trebled  in  twenty  years.  The  breedin--  of  slaves  became  a 
pro'"itable  industry.  I'nder  such  circumstances  tlu;  slavehoMers  arrived  at  the 
conclusion  that  slavery  was  by  no  means  so  wicked  and  hurtt'ul  an  institution  as 
theii-  revolutionary  fathers  had  thouL;ht  it  to  be.  dhe  anti-slavery  professions 
ol  the  revolutionary  time  bt  cime  to  them  an  awkw.ard  reminiscence,  which  they 
would  have  lieen  ^lad  to  \vi|)e  from  their  own  and  other  peo|jle's  memoric^s. 
(  )n  the  other  hand,  in  the  Xorthern  .States  there-  was  no  suc'i  change  of  feeling,''. 
Slavei'y  was  still,  in  the  nature  of  things,  believed  to  be  a  wron^;'  and  a  sore, 
'rh(!  chane(;  of  sentime-nt  in  the  .South  had  not  )'et  |)roduced  its  rellex  in  the 
North.      Till'  slavery  cpu'stion  IkuI  not  become  a  subject  of  difference  (jf  o[)inion 


77//:  .S7..//7-.A'l'  0(7:S7/iK\\ 


iSi 


and  iif  roiitfoNcrsy  aiiKMi;^"  llir  Xorllicni  pi'ipic.  As  tin-)' liad  aliolishnl  sla\t'r_\' 
in  ihi'ir  States,  so  tlv\'  took  it  lur  i_;raniril  that  it  oii^lit  to  (lisappcir.  and  woulil 
tlisa|)[)cai'  in  linv-,  cxciA'ulii'i-c  ('1st:.  Sla\('r\'  had  indcc  d,  now  and  then,  a-^sertctl 
itself  in  the  discussions  ol  Coii'^ress  as  a  distinet  inter-'st,  hut  not  in  such  a  \va\" 
as  to  arouse  much  alarm  in  the  iVc'e  States.  'I'he  amep.dment  to  the  Missouri 
Hill,  [iroxidiiiL^-  lor  a  restriction  with  re^^ard  to  slaverv,  came  tiicrefore  in  a  ])c'r- 
CectK'  natural  wa\'  from  that  .Xorlhern  seiitime-nt  wliiih  remained  still  laidilnl  to 
the  traditions  ol  the  re\-olutionary  period.  .Xii'i  it  was  a  .i^i'eat  surprise  to  most 
Northern  peoiilc  that  so  natui'al  a  i)ro|)o-,ition  should    In:  so  ln.'rceK'  resistcij  on 


'ItKMIKb    IN     ill!';    lil.ri.   l.KA.i.T    Kl.i.MN    Ol     KI-NTCCKY. 


the  part  of  the  South.  It  was  the  sudden  re\e]atioii  of  a  chanL^c  of  feeling"  in 
the  South  which  the  Xorth  had  not  obscrvt;d  in  its  progress.  '  The  discussion 
of  this  Missoiu'i  question  has  hi'tras'ed  the  secret  of  tln'ir  souls,'  wrote  John 
( )uincv  Adams.  The  shueholders  watched  with  apprehension  the;  steady 
o;rowth  of  the  free  .States  in  po[)ulation,  wealth,  and  power.  In  i  791)  the  popula- 
tion of  the  two  sections  had  been  nearly  even.  In  1S20  titere  was  a  difference 
of  over  Goo.oc^o  in  favor  of  thi;  XcM'th  in  a  total  of  less  than  ten  millions.  In 
1790  the  representation  of  the  two  sections  in  Congress  had  been  about  evenly 
balanced.     In    1S20  the  census  promised  to  gi\e  the  Xorth  a  preponderance  <>♦ 


1 84  H/:XRY  CLAY. 

more  tlian  thirty  votes  in  tlio  House  of  Representatives.  As  tlie  slaveholders 
had  no  lon^^cr  the  ultimate  extinction,  IniL  now  the  ptM'petuation,  of  sla\ery  in 
view,  the  ([uesti()n  of  sectional  power  became  one  of  tirst  importance  to  them, 
and  with  it  the  necessity  of  having,''  more  slave  States  for  the  pur[)ose  of  main- 
tainini^''  the  political  ecpiilibrium,  at  least  in  the  Senate'.  A  strui^^le  for  more 
slave  States  was  to  them  a  struL'Lile  for  life.  'Ihis  was  the  true  si''nificance  of 
the  Missouri  ([ueslion." 

The  famous  "  Missouri  Compromise,"  by  which  the  ominous  dispute  of 
1820  was  at  last  s<;ttlcxl,  included  the  admission  of  one  frc;e  Slate  (Maine)  and 
one  sla\  e  State  (Missouri)  at  the  same  time; — a  precedent  which  it  was  uniler- 
stood  woukl  be  thereafter  followed  ;  and  it  was  enacted  that  no  other  sla\e  State 
should  be  formed  out  of  any  of  the  Louisiana  or  "  Northwest  territory"  norlli  of 
latitude  36^  30',  which  was  the  southern  boundary  liiu;  of  Misst)uri.  The  absent 
of  opposing'  ])arties  to  this  arranL;ement  was  secureil  largely  by  tlie  patriotic 
efforts  of  Clay,  who,  says  Schurz,  "ditl  not  conline  himself  to  speech(.'s,  .  .  . 
but  went  from  man  to  man,  e.\[)OstulatinL;',  beseeching,  persuadinj;',  in  his  most 
winning- way.  .  .  .  His  success  added  t^n-eatly  to  his  rei)utation  and  ^ave  new 
strength  to  his  influence."  The;  result,  savs  lohn  ( )uincv  Adams,  was  "to  brinir 
into  full  display  the  talents  and  resources  and  influence  of  Mr.  Cla\'."  lb;  was 
praised  as  "the  yreat  pacificator," — a  character  which  was  contirmeLl  l)y  the 
deeds  of  his  later  life. 

During''  his  lony;  tern.i  in  the  House  of  Re[)resentatives,  Cla\-  had  the 
misfortune  to  incur  the  hatred  of  General  Jackson, — a  hatred  which,  once 
roused,  was  implacable.  The  only  L;rounil  for  Jackson's  ill-will  was  found  in 
proper  criticisms  Ijy  Clay  of  his  public  acts  ;  but  to  lackson  ikj  criticism  was 
proper  ;  and  from  that  time  forward  hatretl  of  Clay  became  one  of  Jackson's 
leadinij;  motives,  actually  determininL,^  his  course  in  many  of  the  most  important 
acts  of  his  public  life;.  In  1S25  it  leil  to  an  attack  which  profoundly  affected 
the  political  history  of  the  time,  as  w('ll  as  the  career  of  1  lenry  Clay. 

The  presidential  election  of  1^24  L;a\-e  no  one  of  the  candidates  a  maiority 
of  the  electoral  votes.  lackson  had  ciy  votes,  Adams  84.  Crawford  41.  and 
Clay  37.  Untler  the  Constitution  this  result  made  it  necessary  for  tlie  1  louse 
of  Representative's  to  choose  the  President  from  amftn^'  the  thre<,'  candidates 
havim^"  the  largest  number  of  xotes.  Clay  was  .Speaker  of  the  House;  ;  antl  as 
his  inlluence  at  this  time  was  \(;ry  L;reat,  it  was  at  once  perceiv(;d  that  he  hatl  it 
practically  within  his  power  to  decide  th(;  choice  ;  and  the  friends  of  both  lack- 
son  and  Crawfonl  l)i;L;an  to  pa\"  assiduous  court  to  him.  He  howcvr-r  ])romptlv 
declared  his  intention  of  usin:,;-  his  inlluence;  to  secure  the;  choice;  of  Adams  ; 
whereupon  the  Jackson  parly,  a  few  days  l)e;fore  the  election,  prblicly  accused 
him  of  having;  sold  his  inlluence  to  Adams  imder  a  "corrupt  bars^ain,"  by  which 
Clay  was  to  be  given  the  Secretaryship  of  State  in  payment  for  making-  Adams 


THE  COMPROMISI-.   TARIFF.  1S5 

President.  Atlanis  was  Clay's  natural  i-hoicc,  and  it  was  altogether  fittin^f  and 
proper  that  Clay  should  t<d<c  thr  lirst  plaic  in  the  cabinet  ;  hut  the  charm-,  '^^'t'l 
ingenious  malice,  was  made  Ih/orr  the  eh'ction  ;  and  when  the  escnt  proxcil  as 
j)reilicted,  the  conlirmaliiin  <>t"  what  st-emed  a  ])r()phecy  was  almost  irresistible, 
and  it  IkuI  a  trt.'meiulous  and  most  darnaLjinL;'  eticct.  i'or  years  the  cr)-  of  "bar- 
gain and  sale"  was  ne\-er  allowed  to  drop.  History  has  shown  that  no  charge 
was  ever  more  com[)lelely  untounded.  It  appears  to  ha\t'  been  a  deliberately 
concocted  shunler  ;  yet,  in  spite  ot  e\-ery  detense,  the  injur)'  to  Clay's  reputa- 
tion and  siibsecpient  caretM"  was  very  great. 

In  1S29,  Jackson  succeeded  to  the  I'residenc)'.  and  for  a  short  season  Clay 
returned  to  -private;  life  in  his  l)eautiful  Kentucky  hi.uie  ;  but  he;  was  not  long  to 
remain  there  :  iniS:;i  he  was  again  elect(;d  to  the  .Senate,  where  he  nMiiained 
until  1S42.  Thev  were  stormy  years.  In  .South  Carolina  the  opposition  to 
the  protectixe  taritV  had  led  to  tin;  promulgation  of  tlu;  lamous  "nullification" 
theory. — the  (.loctrine  that  any  .Stat(;  had  the  power  to  declare  a  law  of  the 
United  .States  null  and  void,  [ackson.  whose  anger  was  thoroughl\'  aroused, 
dealt  with  the;  rexolt  in  summary  fashion  ;  threatening  that  if  any  n-sistance  to 
the  government  w;is  attempted,  he  would  instantly  ha\e  the  leaders  arrested 
and  brought  to  trial  for  treason.  Xe\-erth('less.  to  allay  the  discontt;nt  of  the 
South,  Clay  de\ise<l  his  Compromise  Tariff  of  iS^;,  undi;r  which  tht;  duties 
were  gradually  reihiceii,  until  they  reached  a  minimum  of  twenty  per  cent.  In 
1832  he  allowed  himself  very  imwisely,  to  be  a  candidate  for  the:  presiilency, 
Jackson's  re-election  l)(;ing  a  foregone  conclusion.  In  iS  V)  he  declined  a  nomi- 
nation, and  \'an  lUiren  was  electetl.  Then  followed  the  panic  ot  1S37,  which 
insured  die  defeat  of  tin;  party  in  pow(,'r,  ami  the  election  of  the  W  hig  candidate 
at  the  following  presie'.e ntial  election  ;  but  the.  popularity  of  Ceneral  Jackson 
had  convinced  the  party  managers  that  success  demantled  a  military  hero  as  a 
candidate;  and  accordingly  (ieneral  Harrison,  "the  hero  of  Tippecanoe,"  was 
elected,  after  the  famous  "  Log  Cabin  ami  Hard  Cider  cami)aiiMi  "  of  1S40. 
This  slight  was  deeply  mortifying  to  Clay,  who  had  counted  with  confidence 
upon  being  the  candidate;  \)\  the  i)arlv.  "  I  am  the  most  unfortunate  man  in 
the  history  of  parti(;s,"  he  truly  remarked-  "always  run  1)\'  mv  friends  when 
sure  to  be  defeated,  and  now  betrayed  for  a  nomination  when  I,  or  any  one 
else,  would  be  sure  of  an  election." 

Till-;    CAMI'.viilV    dl'     1S44. 

In  1844,  howe\-er.  Clay's  opportimity  came  at  last.  He  was  soob\iously 
the  \\'hig  candid.ite  that  ihere  was  no  opposition.  The  convention  niet  at 
Baltimore  in  May,  and  he  was  nominated  by  acclamation,  with  a  shout  that 
shook  the  building.  I-lverything  appeared  to  indicate  success,  and  his  supporters 
regarded  his  triumphant  election  as  certahi. 


I  So 


Ifh.XRV  CLAY. 


l>iit  into  tin;  piilitics  ofthc  tiim;  li.ul  mine  ,1  iii:\v  factor — the  "  I.ihcrly  parly." 
'This  had  liccii  liiiliciio  coiisid.TtMl  ii!iiin| 'ortaiU  ;  bill  the  [iroposcMl  annexation 
of  Tex, IS,  uliii'h  hill  licioMii:  a  prominent  ([iiestion,  was  opposed  liy  many  in 
the  North  uhe  had  hidnito  xoled  with  the  Whi-  party.  Clay  was  a  sla\  >:hoKli!r; 
and  thoiiL;h  lu:  had  opposed  the  extension  of  slavery,  liis  ri'i'ortl  was  not  satis- 
tai'tor\'  to  those  who  di->appiM\i'd  ot  tln'  ainiexation  ot  Texas,  liy  letters  and 
speeches  he  eiuleaNoreil  to  eoncili.ile  theni  ;  ])ut  he  was  hetween  two  hres  ;  ho 
did  not  succeed  in  secnriiiL;  their  adherentc  uiiile  his  eilorts  to  do  so  lost  hini 
the  support  of  niaiu'  uith  whom  aniii'xation  was  popular.  1  hen,  too,  his  old 
enemy,  Jackson,  from  his  seclusion  at  the   "  1  li'miita'^c,"  wrote  letters  re\i\in!jf 

th<'  old  "  bargain  and  corrup- 
tion "  story  of  I  Sjs.  liy  an 
audai  ious  fraud,  !iis  opponents 
pose(l  in  I'ennsyKania  as  the 
frifivU  of  protection,  and  the  cry 
of  ••  Polk,  Dallas,  and  th.:  tariff 
of  1S42  1"  was  made  to  do  duty 
against  him.  As  the  campaign 
proL^ressed,  th(;  more  clear- 
siL;hted  anion^'  his  friiMids.  in 
spite  of  his  immense  ])opukirity, 
liei^an  to  feel  somewhat  less  cer- 
tain of  the  result.  Ihit  while  tlu; 
manaL;'<'rs  noticed  the  atKcrse 
current,  the  masses  of  the;  W  hi.i^ 
part}'  llrml\-  expected  success  to 
tin;  \(r\'  last.  It  seemed  imi)os- 
sihle  to  them  that  Henry  (.lay 
could  Ix;  deieatiHl  hy  [ames  K. 
I'olk.  k'.verythinL;-  depentled  on 
New  \'ork.  The  rt'turns  fix)in 
the  interior  of  the  State  came  in 
slowly.  I'here  seem<'il  to  he  still  a  possihilitN'  that  hea\y  W  hi^;"  majorities  in  tlie 
western  counties  mi^ht  oxcrcome  the  larL;e  1  )eniocratic  \'ote  in  the  eastern.  I  ho 
tUspiMise  was  painful.  People  did  not  u;o  to  l.u'tl,  watching- for  the  mails.  When 
at  last  th('  (Ux'isi\-e  news  went  forth  whicii  left  no  douht  of  the  result,  the  \\'hi_Ljs 
broke  out  in  a  wail  of  a^ony  all  o\-er  the  land.  "  It  was,"  says  Nathan  .Sargent, 
"  as  if  the  firstdjorn  of  e\<'ry  family  had  been  stricken  down."  The  descriptioiis 
we  hav(,' of  the  ij^rief  manifested  ari;  almost  incnnlible.  lears  ilowed  in  abund- 
ance from  the  <'yes  of  men  and  women.  In  the  cities  and  vilki'i;es  the  lousiness 
^)laces  were    almost  d.eserted   for  a  dia\-  or  two,  people  gatherins^'  together  10 


JAMKs    K.    rni.K. 


r/.\'.!.vr/AL  TKi^rrj.iis.  is; 

j;roii[)S  to  discuss  in  low  tones  what  had  li;i|i|)i'niil.  Xiiihcr  didi  thf  \  i(  lorious 
Dcnioi  rats  inihilL^c  in  the  uiual  dcnioiistralions  ol'li-inin|)li.  I  hire  was  a  InHn^ 
as  if  a  i^rcal  wi-on;^-  had  \n-f\\  done,  'Ihr  \\'lii-s  wn-  tairly  stunned  1)\' their 
defeat.  Man\' despaired  of  the  i'<'iiiil)lir,  sim  erel\- hehev  iu:^.  that  tiie  <-\|)erinient 
ol  populai*  L;o\crninent  had  fnled  |ore\er.  AhnoNt  all  aLM'eed  tliat  tin;  L;reat 
stalesnieii  ol  the  countr\'  would  thenceloiMh  alu.i\  s  reui.iin  I'xciudi'd  h'oin  the 
pi'esideiuy,  .iild  ih  It  the  highest  ollic't:  would  he  the  pri/e-  oid\'  of  second  iMtu 
politicians. 

nuriii:;-  tJKj  autumn  and  early  part  of  the  \\Int<'r  of  i.Spj-;  L'la\'  reniaiiud 
at  Ashland.  rec(;i\'inL,''  and  an-;werin'_;-  a  llood  of  letters  h'oni  all  jiaits  of  tlu: 
I'nitcil  .St. lies,  and  e\-en  from  luirope,  which  coin  e\cd  to  hiiu  expressions  of 
coiid(»lence  and  symp.ith)'.  I'rixate  cares  had  meanwhile  ;4athered,  in  addi- 
tion to  his  public  disappointments.  lie  had  lor  some  time  been  hihoriiiLj 
unilcM'  eiTcat  pecuniary  emharrassment,  owin^^  |)artly  to  the  dialls  which  arc 
always  made  upon  the  purst;  of  a  prominent  public  man,  p,iril\-  to  the  business 
failure  of  om;  of  his  sons.  Aside  from  other  |)ressinL;'  debts,  there  was  a  hea\v 
mort^aiL^c  restin;^"  on  .\shland.  and.  as  an  old  man  of  si\t\'  se\-en,  Cla)'  I'ound 
liimself  i'orced  to  consider  whether,  in  order  to  satisfy  his  creditors,  it  would  not 
\)(:  necessarv  to  part  with  his  beloxcd  home;.  Relief  came  to  him  suddenU'.  and 
in  an  unexpected  form.  When  olferint,^  a  payment  to  tin- bank  at  Le.xiiieton, 
th(;  president  informed  him  that  sums  of  mont^y  had  arri\t;d  from  ditterent  parts 
of  the  country  to  pa\'  off  Ileiiry  Clay's  debts,  and  that  all  th(;  notes  and  the 
mortt;aL;x;  were'  canceled.  Clay  was  deeplv  mo\-ed.  "  Who  did  this?"  he  asked 
the  banker.  .\11  the  answer  h(M"ec(Mved  was  that  the  L,n\'ers  were  unknown,  but 
they  were?  presumably  "not  his  (Miemies."  Clay  doubted  whetlier  he  should 
accept  the  ;4it"t,  and  consulted  some  of  his  friends.  They  reminded  him  of  the 
many  persons  of  historic  rtmown  who  luid  not  refused  tokens  of  admiration  and 
t^rratitude  from  their  countrymen  ;  and  added  that,  as  h<!  could  not  disco\-er  the 
imknowii  ;4"i\-ers,  he  could  not  return  the;  L;ift  :  and,  as  the  oift  appeared  in  the 
shajx..'  of  a  discharged  oblii_;ation,  he  could  not  force  the  renewal  of  the  tlebt. 
At  last  he  consented  to  acc(;pt,  and  thus  was  Ashland  sa\ccl  to  him. 

'II II",    I  oMl'iO  iMlSi-.    dl'     1S5O. 

The  last  and  L^reatest  public  work  of  Cla\'s  lite  was  the  famous  Compromise; 
of  185(5,  which,  as  has  oft(.:n  been  said,  postponed  tor  ten  years  the  L^r('at  Ci\il 
War.  In  1849  he  was  unanimously  elected  I'nited  .States  .Senator  b\'  the  K(M1- 
tucky  Legislature,  in  sjjitc^  of  the  welbknown  tact  that  his  views  on  the  slavery 
question  were  distasteful  to  a  larL^H'  iiumljer  of  his  constitucMits.  'Ihe  truth  is 
that  they  saw  that  a  storm  was  ^atherim^",  antl  relied  on  Clay's  wisdom  and 
patriotism  to  meet  the  emergency.  TIk-  sentimt.'nt  ai^ainst  shucrv  was  increas- 
ing'.    The  free  States  were  outstripping  the  slave  States  in  wi.'alth  aiid  po[)ula- 


188 


II/iNKY  CLAY. 


tioii.  It  was  cNidfiit  that  slavery  imist  ha\c  more  territory  or  die.  Shut  out  of 
the  Northwest  b\'  the  Missouri  C"oni[u-oinise.  it  was  supposed  tliat  a  :;reat  lield 
for  its  extension  ]iad  luen  gained  in  Texas  and  the  territorx'  accpiired  troni 
Mexico.  I)Ut  now  Cditornia,  a  part  of  this  territory  which  had  l)een  counted 
upon  for  shiv<'rv.  was  popuhite-d  by  a  sudden  rush  of  Northern  ininiicjration.  at- 
tracted by  the  discovery  of  L^old  :  and  a  State  ^^overnnient  was  oru;ani/ed.  with 
a  constitution  exciuchnL;  slav<'ry.  Thus,  instead  of  addini;  to  the  area  of  shixcry, 
the  .Nb'xican  territory  s<(  ined  hkely  to  incrt^ase  the  strc'iij^lh  ot  treedoni.  '1  he 
South  was  l)olh  alarnn-d  and  exas|)erale(I.  Threats  of  disunion  wiM'e  freely 
made.     It  was  evident  that  prompt  measures  must  be  taken  to  allay  th<'  prevail 


Kl  -IM  %■■  I-:   i>l-   A 


•  r  I  III  UN    II   \N  I  I  K. 


\w^  excitement,  if  disruption  were  to  be  avoided.     In  such  an  emergency  it  was 
natural  that  all  eyes  shoukl  turn  to  the  "i^reat  pacificator,"  Henry  Clay. 

When,  at  the  session  of  iS49-'5o,  he  appeared  in  \.\\v.  .Senate-,  to  assist,  if 
possible,  in  removing  the  sla\crv  (piestioii  from  ])olitics.  Clay  was  an  infirm  and 
serious,  but  not  sad.  old  man  ot  se\enlv-two.  lie  never  lost  his  cheerfulness; 
or  f.iith,  but  he  hit  deeply  lor  his  distracted  countr\-,  I  )urin!,.;'  that  memorable 
session  of  ConL,M"ess  he  s|)oke  sc'venty  times.  (  )ften  extremely  sick  and  feeble, 
scarce!)- able,  with  the  assistanct^  of  a  friend's  arm.  to  climb  the  steps  of  the 
Cajjitol.  he  was  never  absc'iit  on  the  days  when  the  Compromise  was  to  l)e 
debated.     On  the  morning  on  which  he  began  his  great  speech,  he  was  accoin- 


77//;  CA'/S/S  CV-  /S,-o. 


189 


panici.l  1)\-  ;i  clerical  friend,  to  whoin  he  saiil.  on  reaching-  tlie  l"ii^'  iHl^Iu  of  steps 
leailiii:^  to  the  Capitol,  "  W  ill  yoii  Uiul  mr  your  arm.  uw  friend  .■'  for  1  find  my- 
self ([iiit«_;  weak  and  exhausted  this  moriiiiii;."  I'.\ir\'  few  step^  he  was  ol>li;_;eil 
to  stop  and  lakt;  breath.  "  Had  you  not  hitler  defer  \'our  ^pee^h  ?  "  asked  the 
clergyman.  "  My  dear  friend,"  said  the  dyini; orator,  "1  consider  our  country 
in  dan^fr;  and  it  1  can  lie  the  means,  in  any  measure,  of  axeriiiiL;'  that  dan^^fr, 
mv  health  or  life  is  of  little  conse(|uence."  When  he  n^e  to  speak,  it  was  but 
too  c;\ident  that  he  was  unfit  for  the  task  he  liad  undertaki'H.  lUit  as  het 
kindled  with  his  siihiect.  his  couL;h  left  him.  and  his  lieiit  form  resumed  all  its 
wonted  erectness  and  maiesty.  11-'  ma\',  in  tin-  prime  of  his  sti'en^th.  ha\(; 
spoken  with  more  enerL;\',  but  nexcrwith  so  nun  h  patlv'S  or  '.grandeur,  ills 
speech  lasted  two  da\s  ;  and  though  he  li\-ed  two  years  lon:_^cr.  li<'  nexcr  recov- 
ered from  the  c  tfects  of  the  ettort.  I'he  thermometer  in  tin-  .S<nate  chamber 
markeel  nearly  100  .  loward  the  close  of  the  s<'cond  da\',  his  friends  repeat- 
eiUy  proposetl  an  ad)ournment  :  but  he  wouUl  not  desist  until  h<'  had  ^i\en 
complete  iitt<'rance  to  his  feelings.  1  le  said  afterward  th.;it  he  was  not  sure,  if 
he  gave  way  to  an  adiournment,  that  he  should  excr  be  able  to  resume. 

Never  was  C"la\'s  dexotion  to  the  I'nion  displayed  in  suih  thrilling- ami 
pathetic  forms  as  in  the  course  ot  this  loiii;'  debate.  (  )n  one  occasion  allu-iion 
was  made  to  a  South  Carolina  hot-head,  who  had  publicK'  pro|)o-,ed  to  raise  the; 
fla<,r  of  disunion.  When  Clay  retortetl  by  sayin^;,  that,  if  Mr.  Rh<-tt  had  really 
iiK'ant  that  proposition,  and  should  tollow  it  up  bv  corresixtndin^  acts,  he  would 
be  a  irai/or,  and  added,  "and  I  ho|)e  he  will  meet  a  traitor's  tate."  thunders  of 
ai)plause  broke  from  the  crowdeil  ealleries.  Whi  n  the  chairman  succeeded  in 
restoring;  silence,  Mr.  Clay  nvule  that  celi'lirateil  tU-claration  which  was  so  irv- 
quentlv  (piotetl  in  iS6(:  "If  Kentucky  to-morrow  shall  unfurl  the  banner  of 
resistance  unjustly.  I  will  nexcr  tii;ht  imder  that  banner.  I  owe  paramount  alb- 
_oianc<'  to  the  whole  I  nion,  a  subordinate  one  to  my  own  .State."  A^^ain  ;  "The 
Senator  speaks  of  \'ir:_;inia  bein^  my  country.  1  his  I'nion,  sir.  i>  my  nnnitry  ; 
the  thirt\'  ,States  are  my  country  ;  Kentucky  is  my  country,  and  \  ir^iinia,  no 
more  than  an\'  State  in  the  Tnion."  .\n<I  \-et  a^ain  :  "  1  here  are  those  who 
think  that  the  I'nion  must  be  [ireserved  by  an  exclusive  reliance  u|)on  lo\-e  and 
n.'ason.  That  is  not  mv  opinion.  I  have  some  conhd<-nce  in  this  instrumentalits' ; 
but,  depend  upon  it.  no  human  L;-o\crnment  can  exist  without  the  power  of 
applying  force,  and  the  actual  application  of  it  in  extreme  cases.  " 

"Who  can  estimate,"  says  I'arton,  "the  inlhience  of  these  clear  and  em- 
phatic utterances  ten  years  after?  The  crowded  L^alleries.  the  numberless 
ntnvspaper  reports,  the  (piickly  succi'edin^'  tleath  of  the  i^reat  orator,  all  aidetl 
to  eive  them  curnMicy  and  I'Hect.  We  shall  never  know  how  many  waverini.;- 
mimls  the\- aided  to  decide  in  1.S61.  Xot  that  Mr.  Clay  really  belie\f<l  the  con- 
llict  wouUl  occur:  he  was  mercifully  permitted  to  die  in  the  conviction  that  die 


I90  HENRY  Cr.AY. 

Compromise;  of  1850  h;ul  rcmoxecl  all  immediate  (lani:^cr,  and  n;rfatly  lessened 
that  of  the  future.  l"ar  iiuh-eil  was  he  from  forcseeins^-  that  the  ambition  of 
Ste])heii  A.  I  )oii_t,das,  a  man  born  in  New  ICn^land,  callin_L(  himself  a  disciple  of 
Andrew  Jackson,  would  within  five  yviu^  destroy  all  compromises,  and  render 
all  future  compromise  impossible,  by  procurint;  the  repeal  of  the  llrst, — the 
Missouri  Compromise  of  iS:;i  ?  " 

"  Whatever  Clay's  weaknesses  of  character  an<l  errors  in  statesmanship 
may  have  been,"  sa\s  Schur/,  "almost  (iverythin*;  he  said  or  did  was  illuminetl 
by  a  orand  conception  of  the  ilestinies  of  his  country,  a  ^lowint,^  national  sjjirit, 
a  lolty  patriotism.  Whether  h(,'  thundc'reil  aij^ainst  British  tyranny  on  th(;  seas, 
or  ur^-ed  the  reco^^nition  of  the  .South  .\mericaii  sister  repu])lics,  or  attacked 
the  hij^dvhaiuh'd  conduct  of  the'  military  chieftain  in  the  Idorida  war.  or  ailvo- 
cated  protection  and  internal  improxemi'iUs,  or  assailed  the  one  man  |»o\ver  and 
spoils  politics  in  the  person  of  Andrew  Jackson,  or  entreated  for  compromise 
and  conciliation  rcLiardiii;^'-  the  tariff  or  slavery  ;  whi-ther  what  he  aiKocated  was 
wise  or  unwisi',  ri^ht  or  wron;^-, — there  was  always  rini^ini;-  through  his  words  a 
fervid  plea  for  his  country,  a  zealous  appeal  in  beh.ilf  of  the  honor  and  the  future 
greatness  and  i^lory  of  the  Republic,  or  an  anxious  warning-  lest  the  I'nion,  and 
with  it  the  greatness  and  L;lory  of  the  American  peopK-,  be  put  in  ieo|)ardv.  It 
was  a  Just  juili(ment  which  lu;  pronounced  upon  himself  when  he  wrote:  "If 
any  one  desires  to  know  the  le.ulino-  and  iJ.iramount  object  of  my  public  life, 
the  preservation  of  the  L'nion  will  furnish  him  the  key." 


DANIEL  WEBSTER, 

THE    DEFENDER    Ol'     NAllONAIv     i:XION 

N  'rilllhall   (if  the  I'liilttl   States  Senate,  on    lannary  26,   iS;,o, 
^  occurred  one  dt'  the  iimsi  iiieinoraljle  sceins  in  the  annals 

of  C"()nt;ress.  Ii  was  then  that  1  )aniel  \\ Clister  made  liis 
famous  "Keplv  to  Maxne," — that  renowned  speech  which 
has  been  declared  the  greatest  or.ition  excr  made  in  L"on- 
j^ress,  and  wliich.  in  its  far-rc'achiiiy"  ettect  upon  the  public 
mind,  <lid  so  much  to  shape  the  fului'c  destin\'  of  tin; 
American  I'nioii.  That  spt-ech  was  Webster's  crownimj 
work,  and  the  event  of  his  lifi;  b\'  which  he  will  be  besl 
known  to  posterit)'. 

Xothin*,''  in  our  history  is  mori;  strikini;'  than  the  con 
trast  between  the  I'nion  of  th(,'  time  of  W'ashins^ton  and  the  Union  of  th(;  tinu 
of  Lincoln,  it  was  not  mereK'  that  in  the  inierxcninL;'  s(;\cnty  two  years  the 
republic  hail  L;rown  i^rcat  antl  powerful  ;  it  was  that  the  jjopular  sentiment 
toward  the  Union  was  transformed.  The  old  feeling-  of  distrust  and  jealousy 
had  !L,dven  place  to  a  passionate:  attachment.  It  was  as  thoui;h  a  i)uny,  sicklv, 
f(.;eble  child,  not  expected  by  its  parents  e\(n  to  live,  had  come  to  Ix;  their 
strong'  defense  and  su])port,  their  ioy  and  pride.  A  weak  league  of  States  had 
become  a  strong;-  nation;  and  when  in  1S61  it  was  attacked,  millions  of  men 
were  ready  to  flight  for  its  defense.  What  brought  about  this  L^reat  change? 
What  was  it  that  stirri'd  this  larL;er  patriotism,  that  L;a\-e  shajje  and  purpose  to 
the  i^rowint^  feeling-  of  national  i)ritle  and  unity?  It  was  in  a  L,n'eat  decree 
the  work  of  Daniel  Webster.  It  was  he  who  maintained  and  aiKocated  the 
theory  that  the  I'ederal  Constitution  created,  not  a  IeaL,;ue,  but  a  nation, — that 
it  weldeil  the  people  into  organic  union.  su]ireme  and  perpetual  ;  who  set  forth 
in  .spleniliil  completeness  the  picture  of  a  ereat  nation,  inse|)arably  united,  com- 
manding- the  fu'st  alleiLjiance  antl  loyalty  of  (-very  citi/en  ;  and  who  so  fostered 
and  stren!L;theneil  the  sentiment  of  imion  that  when  the  great  struyij^le  came,  it 
had  grown  tof)  strong  to  lie  overthrown. 

Daniel  Webster  was  born  in   the;  \ear  17*^2, — soon  after  the  surrender  of 
Cornwallis,  but  before  the  treaty  of  peace  had  formally  eniled  the  War  of  the 


i,i  PAX/I.L   Il7i/:SV7:A'. 

R*:v<iluti<)n.  llis  lather  was  one  (if  tin;  luMve  iin-n  who  f<>u:,'ht  at  I.«-\itiu;ti'ii  ; 
anJ  like  iimsl  ot  tin'  |iatriiiis  ot'  that  day.  had  a  lar^*:  faniiiy  tn  Miiti>iii"l  and 
e>J:ical«;  till  ills  !•(!(  k\-  New  I  lani]ishir<'  taian.  I  >ani<-l  wa--  th'-  yiniii:_;cst  <>t  ten 
chii'Irt-n.  .ind  hk<-  the  nst,  was  carh  put  l'>  work.  H«- was  iniriiscly  tniul  ot 
IxMiks.  \\'h<n  at  work  in  his  father  s  saw  mill.  h»-  u<uild  ><-t  a  Iol;'.  and  whih; 
ih'-  saw  was  L;<'iiii;  ihroiii^h  it,  windd  d(\i)ur  a  ln»<>k.  'Ih<-r«.-  was  a  small  iir(ii- 
i.uiii;.:  library  in  tin;  \illa^i',  and  1  )anii'l  r(  .id  i\crytiiin.,Mt  c<intaini'<i.  cimimittinL;' 
rn-i-t  <.i"  tjv  ( iinti'iits  to  nnniory.  I  lis  t.iicnts  as  a  pader  witc  known  in  tin; 
n'.-i^Jil-trhood,  and  the  [i.issin,;  Icainsicrs.  whih-  ihc-y  wat<r<-d  tlnir  horxs,  i\i-- 
li^hl'-'i  to  ^<jt  ••  \\'(:l)st<;r's  Iim\."  with  his  dilicatf  liM>k  and  _;rcat  dark  cm-s,  to 
com«-  <iut  hcMiealh  the  shade  ot  liie  trees  anvl  reail  th»:  r>il>i«-  to  them  with  all  thcj 
f>>rc«- of  his  chililish  elo(|nence. 

I  >ani<-rs  aliilities  ,is  a  \>n\-  in  man\'  ways  :.;a\e  promise  nt  his  tuture  u;r"at- 
ne-.-;.  Hi-,  powers  ot  meinors'  were,  all  throii._.h  lite.  mo-,t  extraonhnarx'.  llis 
t»-a  her  iiscil  to  tell  ot  om-  ot  th.e  t,u  ts  ot  his  M:ho<<il>oy  days.  ••(  )n  a  .Satur- 
ii.iv  1  r<-inenilier,"  says  the  am  ieiil  peilai^oi^^ui:.  "  I  h«:l«l  uj*  a  liandsojiie  new 
pack-knilV-  to  tin;  scholars,  and  said  that  tin-  hov  who  would  commit  to  memo|-\' 
th'-  _:ri-atest  numhcr  ot'  \crses  in  the  liiMe  l.y  Monday  niornin-  slnuild  ha\e  it. 
'  '  -  of  tile  Iioys  did  well  :  liiit  when  it  rami-  to  I  )aniei>  tarn  to  recite,  1  tonnd 
lh..\i  he-  h.id  committed  so  much,  that,  alter  heariri:^  liim  re]. eat  some  sixty  or 
strvcniv  verses.  I  was  oMij^cd  to  L;i\'e  u\). — \v  telling,''  nv-  that  there  were  st-:\/uf/ 
chjipitr^  yet  to  recite,  that  he  had  learned.      I  )aniel  !^'oi  that  jack-knite." 

The  story  of  the  sacrifices  made  li\-  the  whole  familv  in  order  that  the  l)o\s 
mi,:ht  \m-  ediicati'd,  hears  tiuuhinL;;"  witness  to  the  family  afl'ection  and  iniitv. 
W^H'-n  fourteen.  1  )aniel  was  sen!  to  Phillip-,  IvMter  Academy,  and  in  tin-  follow- 
'">  yc-ar  he  entered  1  )artmout]i  C"olle-<-.  iSy  teachin-^  school  in  vacation  he 
ma<le  his  way  through  colleu;<'.  and  also  manaL,''ed  to  ai<l  his  hrother  M/ekiel. 
H«-  was  tht;  foremost  man  in  his  class,  maintaining-  this  position  throughout  the 
\vhoj«:  course,  in  iSoi  he  he^aii  to  stud\' law  in  .Sali->hury.  New  1  iam]>shire.  In 
r  s- '4-  to  ]i<rl<ct  his  leL;,d  knowledge,  he  went  to  IJuston.  ami  was  ailmiiteil  to 
th'-  I'.if  in  1  S05. 

wi:i:snk"s  \i  \i.\ii  !i  I  \  |-  Af'i-i:  \R\\'  i;. 

\<)  sketch  of  n.uiiel  Welister  is  complett'  or  ade'iuatt;  which  omits  to 
d'-^crihe  his  extraordin.ii'y  personal  appearance  an<-l  presence.  "  We  can  hut 
h.iil  understand  his  elo(|U(-nce  and  its  iniluenci;."  savs  Mr.  Lo<.]^-e,  '•  if  we  do  not 
c.ir»-lt:]]y  study  his  physical  atlrihute-,,  his  temperame-nt  and  tlispo^iliou.  Ju  tact;, 
{••rm.  and  voict;.  nature  did  her  utmost  for  1  )aniel  \\'<-bst«-r.  He  seemed  to  e\-ery 
one  to  V>e  a  L,dant ;  that,  at  least,  is  the  word  ue  mo-,t  commonly  find  applied  t(j 
htm:  and  there  is  no  better  proof  ot  his  wonderful  impressiveness  than  this  fact, 
tor  he  was  not  a  man  of  extraordinary  statur<;.  He  was  five  feet  ten  inches  in 
height  anil,  in   health.  weiL^hed   .1  little  less  than  two  hundred  pounds.     Th'-'st; 


///.s  / V:  A'.V(  \y.  1 1.  .1/.  \<;M:  I  ism. 


•95 


arc  \\v  i)r(i|)i)rtii)ns  of  ;i  l,ii':^i'  niaii,  luit  tlvn-  i->  noihin:;- rnn.irkalili- alu  mt  llnin. 
W  <•  mu^t  liMik  clsiwhi  re  ih.m  to  ini-n-  -^i/i-  tn  discox  cr  \\\\\  in<ii  spuki-  nt' 
\\il)^icr  as  a  ;4ianl.  lie  li.iil  a  swarthy  coiiiiili-xiiin  ami  str.UL^lu  Mai  k  hair. 
I  \\^  hi  Mtl  was  \cr\'  lar_;f  :  at  ih''  -^aiiii'  tiiiv  it  was  ol'  nolilc  shajir,  with  a  limad 
and  l(ptt\'  hniw,  ami  his  tialKr<-s  wcri-  liiU'K-  cut  ami  lull  dI  iiiassi\i'  strriv^th. 
His  cNcs  were  fxlranri  iiiiar\-.  i'hiy  wi-r<'  \  <-r\'  lar^c  and  iliip  set.  ami.  w  inii 
lif  liijaii  to  rouse  him-^eU  tn  artinn.  -,hMm-  with  tin-  di'i-]i  li;^ht  nf  a  liir_;i- la-f, 
'ffllin''-  v\(ix  more  LilowiiV'  a-^  <-.\riti'nii  in  ro>i  .      1  li-,  xoic c  was  in  hariMoii\-  w  ith 


1  ,\Ni  III.  mil,  ii"-  :"N,  will'  II  w  1  r-i  I  K  l  \;  1 1 1'  ••  iiii.  v  k.m.i.i.  >•!■  i.ii.i  k  i  ^ . 


his  a|i|ii-ai'ancc'.  It  was  low  and  musical  in  con\iTsation  ;  in  drliali- ii  was  hi;^li 
but  lull,  rinL;ini4'  out  in  moiU'iit-^  of  cKciti-nifiU  like  a  clarion,  and  tlnii  sinking' 
to  di<|)  Holes  with  thi;  .solemn  riihness  of  or^^an  tones,  while  the  woi^K  wei'i; 
accom]Mnied  by  a  manner  in  which  grace  and  (.liL;iiity  min:_;led  in  comiilete 
accortl.  ' 

That  indefinable  ([uality  which  we  tall  personal  magnetism,  tlie  power  of 
ini[)rt'ssin^-  by  one's  personality  e\iry  human  beiii:;'  who  comes  n<'ar.  w,is  at  its 
heij^ht  In  Mr.  Webster.  1  le  never,  lor  instance,  punished  his  childn'ii,  but  when 
thev  did  wroiiij-  he  would  send  for  them  and  look  at  them  silentK',     The  look. 


196 


j'.ix/hi.  wi:/!srhR. 


whcthtT  of  sorrow  or  ;inL;<'r,  w.is  punishment  ;nnl  n-biikt-  fnou^^h.      It  was  th« 
same  witli  otlu-r  iliildrcii. 

I)aiii<l  W'chstcr  had  surpassing'  ahihtics  in  three  i^reat  spheres, — those  of 
th(-'  lawyer,  tiie  orator,  ami  the  si,itesnian.  .\s  a  iawNcr  iiis  most  lainous  argu- 
ments are  tliose  in  lite  I  )artmoiilii  C'oilei^c  c.ise.  the  \\  liite  niunler  I  ase,  and  th(t 
"sle.inilio.it  case,"  as  it  was  (ailed.  A  p.irt  ol  his  speei  h  in  the  min'iler  ea^e  is 
still  printed  in  school  readers,  and  declaimed  on  examination  il.i\s.  The  Mart- 
month  t.dllei.^c  case  isonc;  ol  the  most  lamous  in  .\merican  lit  illation.  \\  hile  \  cry 
intricate,  it  may  he  L;<"ner.dly  descrilied  ;is  a  suit  to  annul  the  charter  ot  the  col- 
lei^c  on  the  i^round  th.it  it  had  l.iiled  to  c.irr\'  ont  the  pur|)oses  e\pressed  in  the; 
will  of  its  toiintl<r.  .After  trial  in  the  .State  courts,  it  was  ap|)c-aled  to  the  Initecl 
States  .Supreme  C'ourt,  before  which  Mr.  W  ihster  made  his  L;reat  arL;nmeiil  in 
iSiS.  Mr.  L",  .\,  ( loodrich,  who  w.is  present,  has  L;iven  the  followiii;^  description 
of  the  scene  : — 

Tlic  .Sii|in.inc  (loiirt  of  the  I'niicd  St,iti's  held  its  session,  tli.it  wintor,  in  a  nu-an  :i|iartiiK'nt  of 
modcrati' si/c — tlio  (,'a|iitol  iiol  lia\inu  ln'iii  Imilt  aftL-r  its  clc>trii(  lion  in  1.S14.  I'lu'  .iiKluMut.',  \\lifii 
tlic  <  a^c  <  anic  on,  was  thcnlori'  small,  inn--isiinj,'  ch  icily  of  k'jial  men.  llic  r/i/r  of  tlio  profi'ssioii 
tliroiij^hoiit  the  ( (iuntr\'.  .Mr.  Wiiisiiv  ciUiTcd  n|ion  his  arj^nnicnt  in  liuM.ilni  tniio  of  ca-.\  and  digni- 
fied <iinvcrs,ui(in.  I  lis  niattcT  was  xi  riini|ilcti'l\  at  his  (ununand  that  he  s(  ,irc  el  y  looked  at  lii.s 
brief,  but  wcni  on  for  more  than  four  hours  with  a  statement  so  hnninoiis  and  a  <  hain  of  reasoninj» 
s.)  easy  to  be  nnderstood.  and  yet  apjiroachin,!,'  so  nearl\-  to  absohite  demonstration,  that  lie  .seemed 
to  carry  with  him  e\ery  man  in  his  audienc  e,  without  the  slii,'htest  el'fort  or  wearine.-,s  on  either  side. 
It  was  liardh  eluc|uen(e,  in  tiie  strii  I  siiise  of  the  term  ;  it  was  |iure  reason.  N'ow  and  then,  for  a 
senteni  e  or  twn,  his  eve  tl,i^iie<l  and  his  voice  swelled  into  a  bolder  note.  .1-  he  ntteied  some 
emphatir  thought  :  but  he  instantly  tell  ba<  k  into  the  tone  of  earnest  <  i>nver>.ition.  wlm  h  ran 
thronuhout  the  j;reat  body  of  his  s]>ee<h. 

.\  siiiiile  (  ir(  innstanie  will  show  the  <  Icarness  and  aliMirbini,'  power  of  hi>  ,ir,i.'nment,  1  had 
observed  that  Jndi;e  .Story,  at  the  openiiiL;  of  the  case,  had  jirepared  him-.ell',  pen  in  h.ind.  ,t^  if  to 
take  copious  minutes.  Hour  alter  hour  I  saw  him  fi.xed  in  the  s.ime  attitude,  but.  so  tar  as  I  (niild 
perceive,  with  iKit  a  note  on  his  pa|ier.  The  ar,L;uinent  c  los(.-d.  ami  I  could  not  dixover  that  he 
had  taken  a  sin.:;le  note.  ()tluTs  around  me  remarked  the  same  ihiiiL;  ;  and  it  w.is  amon_'  the  ini 
i/i/<  of  W'.isliin.Ljton.  that  a  I'riend  spoke  to  him  of  the  tact  with  surprise,  when  the  jud^'e  rem, irked  ; 
"  I'.verv  tiling  vvas  so  (  lear,  and  so  e,isy  to  remember,  th.it  not  a  note  seemed  necessary,  .md,  in 
fai  I,  1  th'HiLiht  little  or  nothiiiji  about  my  notes." 

'I'lu;  ,irLrument  ended,  Mr.  Webster  stood  t"or  some  moments  silent  liel'on-  the  (o'irt,  vvhile 
cverv  eve  was  tixed  intentlv  uiioii  him.  .\t  leni,'th,  addressing;  the  Chief  justice,  .M,irsh,ill,  he 
proceeded  thus  : 

"This.  sir.  is  mv  (  a>e  !  It  is  the  case,  not  merely  of  tli.it  humble  institution,  it  is  the  (  a^e 
of  every  lolleue  in  orr  l.md.  It  is  more.  It  is  ihe  c  ,ise  of  I'verv  eleeinosvnary  institution  tlirou:;h- 
oiit  our  lountrv  :  of  all  those  j^'ie.U  c  harities  founded  bv  the  I'ietv  of  our  ancestors  to  allevi.ite 
human  misery,  and  s(atter  Messinirs  aloiiu  the  pathway  of  life.  It  is  m  ire  !  It  is.  in  some  sense, 
the  case  of  cverv  man  amoiiL;  us  who  has  property  of  which  he  may  be  stripped  :  for  the  question  is 
simply  this:  Shall  our  .St.ite  Leiiislaiures  be  allowed  to  take  that  which  is  not  their  own.  10  ttirn  it 
from  its  orit;inal  u^e,  and  apjily  it  to  sue  h  ends  and  purposes  as  thev.  in  their  discretion,  shall  see  fit. 

"  Sir.  yon  may  destroy  this  little  institution  ;  it  is  weak  ;  it  is  in  voiir  hands!  I  know  it  is 
one  of  the  les^  r  lights  in  the  literary  hori/.on  of  our  country.      \'ou  mav  i>ut  it  out.      liut  if  you  do 


THE  IKIRTMOITII  CO  1. 1. EC  E  ARC.rMEXT.  lo; 

BO,  yriii  inii-t  i  ar-v  ilinm^li  \(iur  wnrk  !  N'mi  iniht  i'\liiiL;iii--l),  'MU'  iiricr  aiiniluT,  .ill  iIupnc  j;ri\it 
lights  <'!' s<  ii-in  c  whiib.  I'nr  mure  than  a  (cnturv.  \\a\v  tlirown  llu'ir  ladiaiKc  omt  tmr  land. 

•'  It  IS.  Mr.  a^  I  !i.i>c  ^.lul.  a  Mii.iil  <  (ilii'j,'i'.      Ami  \ct,  ihcri'  ari'  tliuM.'  whd  Iom'  it " 

Hrri'  till'  liTiiH;:"  uhii  h  111' liacj  thus  I'ar  sue  i  cciUil  in  ki't'iMnj.;  ilmwi  liiukc  liitih.  Ili^lipN 
(|iiivfrf(i  ;  hi~  lirni  i  luik-.  tnnilikd  with  rniutidn  ;  his  I'u^  wiTi'  rilKd  with  Il•.ll^  ;  hi->  nuk  i'  (  hukni, 
ami  he  MCined  »irn;;L;lint;  to  the  utninst  siniplv  to  Li.iin  that  mastery  n\er  hini^elt'  \vlii(  h  nii^lil  s,i\o 
hini  from  an  unmanly  Imr-t  ut"  iVelinj;.  I  wdl  nut  anrm|it  to  ,i;i\e  \oii  the  lew  liroken  word>  of 
lemierne-"  in  whii  h  he  went  <>n  to  speak  of  hi-,  .iti.u  hment  to  the  collej.;!'.  The  whole  seiined  to 
l)e  nnn^^led  tlirou):h(iut  with  the  recoilee  lions  of  lather,  motiier.  brother,  and  all  the  trials  and 
pri\.itions  throuj.'ii  uhi.  h  he  h.nl  made  his  way  into  hie.  K\ery  one  saw  that  il  wa>  wholly  unpre- 
meditated, a  pressure  on  lii>  heart  wlinh  souyht  relief  in  words  and  te.ir>. 

The  ( (iiirirooMi.  durinu  the^e  two  or  three  minutes,  presented  an  isir.iordinary  spei  i.ii  le. 
("hief  JiiNtne  M.irshall.  with  his  tall,  uaiint  fi.,'ure  i)ent  o\-er  a>  if  to  c  .it(  h  the  ^Imhlest  whi^inr.  the 
deep  I'lirrows  of  his  <  heeks  expanded  with  emotion,  and  e\e-.  suffused  with  tr.us  ;  Mr.  IusIk  e  W'.isli- 
injjton  at  his  side,  with  his  sm.ill  and  enuu  i.iti'd  frame,  and  ( oimten.ini  e  more  like  m.ul  le  than  I 
ever  saw  on  ww  human  l)ein_i;.  le.ininj,'  forward  with  aii  e,iL;er,  troiiMed  look  ;  and  the  remainder  iif 
ihe  (  ourt.  at  the  two  extremities,  jiressin^,  as  it  w\Te.  tow.ird  .1  sin;;le  |Miint.  wliiU'  the  .iiidieme 
lielow  were  wra|'pinj:  iheinsehes  round  in  iloser  folds  liemalh  the  ln'iu  h  to  1  ali  h  e.i<  li  look,  and 
cverv  mo\enient  of  the  spe.iker's  tare.  If  a  jiainter  could  j,'i\e  iis  the  s(  eiie  on  ( ,in>as — those  t'orms 
and  <  ounlenam  es,  .uid  1  )anie!  W'elisier  as  he  iheit  stood  in  the  midst,  it  would  he  one  of  the  mo^t 
toiK  hin^'  pi(  tures  in  the  liistory  of  eloi|iieiue.  (Jnelhi'i},'  it  taiiuiit  me.  th.it  tlu'  pailuti(  depends 
not  inertly  on  the  words  uttered,  hut  still  more  cui  tlu'  istimate  we  put  upon  him  who  utters  them. 
There  v  as  not  cuie  .imont:  the  stri iul;- minded  men  ot"  that  as^enilih'  w ho  eould  think  it  unmauh  to 
weep,  when  he  saw  standing  hefore  him  the  m.in  who  had  made  sui  h  .111  aruument,  nulled  into  the 
tenderness  of  a  <  hi  hi. 

Mr.  Welister  had  now  re(o\ered  his  eoinposiire.  and  fixin;,'  his  e\t'  lui  ihe  ( 'hii'f  Jusiice,  said, 
in  that  deep  tone  with  whn  h  he  sometimes  thrilled  the  heart  of  an  .nidiem  e  :  — 

•■Sir.  I  know  not  how  others  may  feel  "  (j,danein,:;  at  the  opponents  of  the  rnUeLie  hefore 
him  I.  ••  liut.  lor  in\ self,  wlu'ii  I  see  my  Alma  M.iter  surrounded,  like  ( '.esar  in  the  Seiuite  house,  hv 
those  who  are  reiterating'  stah  upon  stall.  I  would  not,  for  this  ri^ht  h.iml,  h.ue  her  turn  to  me  ,iiid 
say.  ' Ft  (11  i/iiii,/iii\  III i  till  ■'    And  thou  too,  my  son  I'  " 

lie  sat  down.  There  was  a  death-like  stillness  throui^hout  the  room  lor  some  moments  ; 
every  one  seemeil  to  he  sl,iwly  recoverini;  himself,  and  coming  gradually  hai  k  to  his  ordinary  range 
of  thought  ami  feeling. 

As  an  (ir.itor.  Mr.  Wdisttr's  most  f.iinoiis  speeches  are  the  rKinniith  Rock 
address,  in  1S20.  <>ii  the  two  hundredth  annixcrsary  of  the  LaniHiiu  nt"  the  I'll- 
^rim.s  :  the  Htinker  llill  Montiineiit  address,  in  iS^s;  and  his  speei  lies  in  the 
Senate  on  January  ;oth.  1S30,  in  reply  to  llayne,  and  .March  7th,  1X50,011 
Clay's  L"(>niproniise  liill. 

<  )f  the  I'lynioiilh  Rock  oration  a  olimpse  is  oiven  in  a  letter  written  at  the' 
time  to  a  friend  by  Mr.  (ieoroe   1  icknor.      I  le  writes  : — 

'•  Fn'i/tn  /■: iiiiiti:-  I  have  run  away  from  .1  great  le\ee  there  Is  dow ii-stairs,  thriuiging  in 
admiration  roiiiid  Mr.  \\'el'stt.r.  to  tell  yon  u  little  word  almiit  his  oration.  \'(t  I  do  not  dare  to 
trust  myself  ahout  it.  and  I  warn  yuii  beforehand  that  I  ha\e  not  the  least  confidence  in  my  own 
Opinion.  His  manner  carried  me  away  coni]iletely  ;  not,  I  think,  that  I  could  ha\e  been  so  carried 
away  if  it  had  been  a  poor  oration,  lor  of  that.  I  ap|irehend,  there  1  an   be  no  fear.     It   must  have 


iwS  DAXIl.l.  U'lins/HR. 

)"'i-ii  a  yr-.-at,  a  vi.Tv  LTi-at  piTfurnianre  ;  Ijiii  wIu-tlaT  it  was  sn  alwnliitcly  iinrivalcd  a^  I  imai^'iiiod 
vvhiii  I  was  under  tin.  inmu'diati.'  iiirtnciirc  i)f  his  prcsciuf,  tif  lii>.  t(inc>.  hi  1ii>  jocik^,  I  (.iniiot  bu 
Miff  tdl  1  Ikui-  read  it,  lor  it  m'Cius  to  inc  iiK  rciliMe. 

"  I  \va~.  iR'vi'r  so  c\<  itfti  liy  |iiil)lic  sjicakini.'  lu'l'oro  in  my  life.  'riiiLO  or  t'lHir  tinie^  I  tiiuii^jlit 
niv  teniplis  unuld  Imr^t  \\iih  tlic  j;tisli  of  Mood  ;  for,  afu-r  all,  \oii  niu^l  know  tiiat  I  am  awaii'  it  is 
no  I  DMiUf  t<(i  anil  < umiiai  tal  whole.  Init  a  collection  of  wnnderfiil  l"ra;:ments  of  linrniiiK  eliHi'ieni  e, 
to  \\lii(  h  his  whnle  manner  uave  tenfold  fori'e.  \Vhen  I  (  ame  out  I  wa^  almost  airaid  to  c  (ime  near 
to  him.  it  seemed  to  nie  th.it  he  wa>  like  the  motml  th.it  nnu'lit  not  lie  lnu<  lied,  ,ind  th.ii  IniineU 
with  fire.      1  was  heside  iii>»elf.  and  am  so  still. 

" 'I'he  |ia^-<.i:.'e  at  the  end.  where,  sjireadini;  Iiis  arm^  as  if  ti>  emlir.ue  them,  he  weleomed 
fiitiire  generations  to  liu'  .Me. it  inherit.ime  whic  h  we  h.ue  enji'\ ed.  w,is  >]"jken  \>ith  the  ini'st  attrac- 
tive sweetness,  and  th.it  |ieeiiliar  smile  which  in  liim  was  alwa\s  so  c  h.irmin^'.  The  effect  of  the 
while  was  very  irreit.  .\s  ^mn  .is  he  j:ot  liome  to  oiir  lodj,dn,i;^,  all  the  priiK  ipal  peii|,le  then  in 
riymniith  crowded  aliotit  him.  He  w.i>  full  of  animation,  and  radiant  with  hai'iMiie'^s.  Hut  there 
w.is  somethini,'  alioiil  him  very  yrand  and  imiio-inij  at  the  same  time.  I  liever  >aw  him  at  any  time 
when  he  seemed  to  me  to  lie  m"re  coii.>tioiLs  of  his  own  jiowers,  ur  lo  h.i\e  a  more  true  aiul  natural 
ciijiiymcnt  from  their  po^>e»ion." 

■nii:     MIMc  'K  AI'.I  i:     "  Kill  N'    'in    IJAVM." 

I'x'Vonil  all  (Iiiiilit.  Mr.  \\'<l>sti'i-"s  i^ri'.itisi  ainl  mn^t  iTiiowiicd  onitorical 
cit'ort  was  his  spcinh  in  ri|tl\'  in  Rnlicrt  \'.  il.iNiic  (d"  .South  L'arnliiia,  ililix  iTcd 
ill  the  .Senate  mi  ihr  J^4li  <d  laiitiary.  i  S  V3.  "There  was,"  s.i\s  Ivlu.ird 
I'lxerett,  "a  \(ry  threat  exc  itemeiu  in  W  asliinoton.  ^rowin--  out  ol"  the  coiuro- 
versies  of  the  (Kiy,  aiitj  the  .iciioii  of  the  .Sotiili  :  and  ii.iriy  spirit  ran  uiuoiii- 
nioiily  hii^h.  There  seemed  to  l)e  a  |>retdncerled  action  on  tln'  part  of  the 
.Southern  nieniln-rs  to  jiri-.ik  ilown  iht;  Xoriliern  men,  aiul  to  ilesiiro)  their  lorce 
and  inlliieiice  li\-  a  preinidit.ited  onslaiiL;ht. 

"  Mr.  I  iayne's  speech  w.is  an  eloinn-ni  one.  .is  all  know  who  cNcr  n-.id  it. 
He  W.IS  considered  the  toreino>i  .SouiheriKr  in  ilel)ate.  except  Calhoun,  who  was 
\  ice  President  aiitl  could  not  enter  the  arena.  Mr.  I  ia\iie  was  the  chainjiion 
of  the  .Southern  side.  Those  who  lieanl  his  sjx  ich  felt  much  alarm,  for  two 
reasons;  I'irst  on  accoiuit  ol  its  elo(|iieiic(;  and  power,  and  second,  because  of 
its  many  personaliti<'s.  It  w.is  tlioui^ht  \)\  niaiiv  who  lie.ird  it.  and  by  some  of 
Mr.  Webster's  personal  trieiids,  that  it  was  im[)()ssible  tor  him  to  answer  the 
s[ieech. 

"I  sharetj  a  little  myself  in  that  fear  and  apprehension,"  said  Mr.  I'^crett. 
"I  knew  from  what  I  heard  concerning:' ("leiieral  1  Iayne's  speech  that  it  was  a 
\  ery  masterb"  etfort.  and  delivered  with  a  L;reat  deal  (if  power  and  with  an  air 
id  lriumj)li.  I  was  eii^aL^a-d  on  that  ilay  in  a  committee  of  which  I  was  chair- 
man, and  could  not  be  present  in  the  .Senate.  l?iit  immediately  after  the 
adiounimeiit,  1  hastened  to  Mr.  Webster's  lious(>,  with.  I  ai.lmit.  some  little 
trepidation,  not  knowing-  how  I  should  find  him.  lUit  I  was  (piite  re-assured  in 
a  moment  after  seeino'  Mr.  Welister.  and  observiiio-  his  entire  calmness.  He 
scemetl  to  be  as  much  at  his  case  and  as  unmoved  as  I  ever  saw  him.     Indeed, 


Till:  KIJ'LY  10  1 1,  dm:.  I., 9 

at  first  I  was  a  little  afraiil  iVoin  this  that  he  was  not  (|uitL:  aware  of  thi-  ina;^ni- 
tiulc  of  th«'  CdiUi'-t.      1  ^aiil  .It  iiiKf  :  — 

"•  Mr.  1  layne  has  inatle  a  spree  h?' 

"'\'<-s,   lie  lias  made  .l  speech.' 

"  '  \'i'ii  reply  in  the  inrirniiiL;  ?' 

"  '  N  es.'  saitj  Ml".  W  <  l)->ler,  •  1  do  imt  propose  to  li't  the  case  e(i  liy  delaiilt. 
and  witliotit  saying;  a  word.' 

"  '  I  >id  you  take  note-,,   Mr.  W'cli^^ter,  of  Mr.  Ila\ne's  speech.' 

"  Mr.  \\  e'l)-.ter  took  h'oin  hi  >  \(sl  pmket  a  piece  ot  paper  .dioiit  as  lii.;  as 
the  p.ilin  ot"  his  hand,  and  replied,  •]  h.ive  it  all:   that  is  his  speeih.' 

"I  immediately  arose,"  said  Mr,  l'.\crelt,  ••.md  r<'marked  to  him  th.it  I 
would  not  tli->tiirli  him  louL^er  ;  Mr.  Webster  ilesired  me  imi  to  h.i-^tiii  as  he  h.id 
lio  desire  to  Ik;  alone  ;   luit  1  hli." 

'•nil  the  morning'  of  the  memoraliK;  ilay,"  writes  Mr,  l.od-f,  ••  tl.e  Si  nate 
chamlier  wa-^  pai  kerl  by  .m  ea^cr  and  excited  croud.  |-.\(  ry  seat  on  die  door 
and  in  the  uialhries  was  occupied,  and  all  the  availaMe  st.mdinj^-room  w.'s  tilled. 
The  ])rotrai'teil  del>.ite,  conducted  with  so  much  al>ilit\'  on  both  sides,  liad  e\. 
cited  the  atteiuion  ot  the  whole  counlr\',  and  had  :^i\eii  time  tor  the  ai"r',\al  ot 
hundreds  of'  iiuerest<'d  spectators  troin  all  p.u'ts  ot  the  I  nioii,  and  espeu.dlv 
from  New  l-aiL;land 

"In  th«;  midst  ot'  the  hush  ot"  expeitation,  in  that  dead  silence  which  is  so 
])eiiili,irly  oi)pressi\<'  because  it  is  jjossible  oiiK"  when  many  hum, in  beiiii^s  are 
oathired  to'^(  ther,  Mr.  \\  ebster  arose.  I  lis  personal  i^randeur  and  his  maies- 
i\c.  calm  thnil'd  .dl  who  looked  upon  him.  With  pertei't  quietness,  unatlected 
appareiuK'  by  the-  .umo>phi're  ot  intense;  t'i;(;linL;'  about  him,  he  said,  in  a  low, 
even  tone  : — 

"  '  Mr,  rroidiiit :  W'Ikii  tlic  mariner  ha-;  hccn  tossed  for  inanv  {lav<  in  tliic  k  woatlicr  and  on 
an  univnown  M.a.  lie  nutiiralix  a\aib  liim>elf  of  the  lirsl  jiausc  in  ihc  >b>nn,  ilie  i.ariic>t  (^i.incc  of 
llK'->iin.  lo  tai<c  iii-^  i.uitiiilc  ami  ,i->i  eriain  iiow  tar  the  cleineuts  iiave  (lri\i-n  him  from  his  true 
cmirse,  i , el  us  imitate  tliis  iinideiKe  ;  and,  liefoie  we  float  farther  on  tlic  waves  of  thi-.  debate, 
refer  in  tlie  iniiiit  fruiii  wliiili  we  departed,  tiiat  we  nia\',  at  le.ist.  lie  uMc  to  conjeeture  where  we 
are  imw.      1  .i>k  for  the  re.idini:  of  tlic  rescjlution  before  the  Senate.' 

"This  opening-  sent'-nce  was  a  piece  of  consummate  art.  The  simple  ;uk1 
appropriati-  ima^e.  the  low  voice,  the  calm  manner,  relie\-ed  the  straineil  exiite- 
m(;nt  of  the  aiulience,  whiih  mi^^ht  ha\e  ended  bv  disconcertiiiL;'  tht;  speaker  if 
it  had  Ijeeii  maintained,  ICvcry  one  was  now  at  his  ease  :  anil  when  the  monoto- 
nous readini,''  of  the  resolution  ceasetl,  .Mr.  Webster  was  master  of  the  situation, 
and  had  his  listeners  in  com|)I(;te  control." 

With  breathk-ss  attention  they  tollowed  him  as  he  |)roceeded.  Th(;  stron_L;, 
masculine  sentences,  the  sarcasm,  th(;  pathos,  the  reasoninL;,  the  burning;  app(;als 
to  love  of  State  and  country,  tlowed  on  unbroken.     As  his  feelin^^s  warmed  the 


200 


DAM  EI.   WlillSTER. 


lire  cHinc  into  his  eyes  :  tlK-rr  was  a  t^ldw  in  his  s\varth\-  check  ;  his  stroni^  fitrht 
arm  SL'iMiicil  to  sufcp  away  rt^sistlcssly  the  whoU'  ph.ilanx  ot  his  opponents,  ami 
the  ilcep  and  niehxlious  cadences  of  his  \oice  soiindetl  ni<<'  harnionions  or^an 
tones  as  the\'  liUed  the  chamber  witli  tlit-ir  music.  Who  that  ev(,-rread  or  heard 
it  can  forLjct  the;  closing-  passai^c  of  that  L;lorious  speech? 

'•  When  iii\  c)c>  >hall  lie  tiirnoil  hi  licliokl  tor  tlic  l,i>t  lime  llio  Miii  in  he;ueii,  iiKiy  I  not  see 
liiii\  sliininu  on  ll'c  hr.ikcn  and  (li^honDri'd  iVau'incnls  of  a  nine  L;liiri(.us  I'ninn  ;  on  Slates  dis- 
>r\t'it,'il.  (lisidiilant,  liclliucrcnt  ;  mi  ;i  land  rent  with  cisil  tends,  or  dreni  lied,  it  ni.u  lie,  in  tValernal 
liliMid  !      I,el  llieir  last.  leeMe  and  lini^erinL;  i;lance  lieluild  radier  the  uloridu^  en^i^n  nf  the  re|nil)lic, 

niiw  kiKuvn  and  hundred  ilirniiulKinl  the 
earth,  still  lull  lii:.;h  advanced,  its  arms 
and  trii]ihies  >ireamini;  in  their  i>ri^;inal 
Instre,  not  a  stripe  er,t>ed  <ir  iiollnted,  not 
a  sin,L;le  ^t.ir  o1k(  nred  ;  bearini,;  I'or  its 
motto  no  >!irli  nii-eiahle  interro^,uor\' as, 
W'iiiU  is  all  tilts  w.iitii  f  or  tho^e  other 
words  of  delusion  and  loll\-,  I,i:>,-itv  first, 
lUiJ  [')ii,'ii  ajt,-r:^',irji ;  Imt  e\eryu  here, 
sjiread  all  over  in  characters  ot"  living 
li^hl,  blazing  on  all  its  ample  folds,  as 
they  lloat  over  the  >e,i  and  over  the  lantl, 
that  other  sentiment,  ilea:-  to  evcrv  true 
.\meruan  heart. — I.ii'.kkiv    and   I'mdn', 

NOW    .\NU     lUKt.VEK.    ONK     .\Nl)    INSKI'.VK- 

AiiLK ; " 

As  the  last  words  ilied  away 
into  silence,  thost-  who  had  lis- 
tened looked  woiul(M'inol\'  at  each 
other,  tlimly  conscious  that  they 
had  heard  ont-  of  the  oi-;ind 
speeches  which  are  latidmarks  in 
the  history  of  ehxpience  ;  and  the 
men  of  the  Nordi  atul  of  New 
I-aioland  went  forth  full  of  the 
pride  ot  victc^ry,  for  their  champion  had  triumphed,  atid  tio  assurance  was 
nei'ded  to  j)fo\e  to  the  worlil  that  this  time  no  answer  could  hv.  maile. 

Dm-iiiL;'  all  the  Ncars  of  Jackson's  and  \'an  Hin-en's  administrations,  Mr. 
Webster  conliniK'il  in  the  I'liited  .States  Setiate.  1  le  opposed  the  innovations 
an<l  iistM'iJatiotis  ot  |ackson's  reion  ;  lu'  was  dio'nitied,  |)riident,  conservative. 
"  .\mid  the  lliohty  politics  ot  the  time,"  says  I'arton.  "  there  seemed  one  solid 
thiiio  ill  .\nierica  as  lono-  as  he  sat  in  the  arm  chair  of  the  .Senate  Chamber." 

Tpon  liarrisoii's  inaiic-iiration  in  1S41,  .Mr.  Webster  became  Secretary  of 
State,  which  othct;  he  held  under  President  Tyler  imtil  1S43.     Umnng  this  time 


JOHN'    rvii  K 


THE  s/iviixrif  or  march  speech.  2o\ 

lu!  ni'^otiatcd  the  famous  treaty  with  Lord  Ashhurlon,  which  settled  a  di';[)ute 
of  Ioiil;  standin)i,''  with  l'JiL;laiul  o\-er  the  Maine  bound, irw  In  1N4;,  he  rt'simieil 
this  position,  lie  supported  Cla\'  tor  thi;  I'residencs'  in  1S44,  opposing  tlu: 
annexation  of  Texas,  because  it  woukl  inxoKc  the  extension  of  sla\ery.  In 
1S45  h<;  was  a^^ain  eh-cted  to  the  Senate,  and  opposi:tl  the  jjrosecution  of  thi! 
Mexican  war,  the  rt.-al  purpose  of  which  was  the  increase  t)f  ^la\f  territory. 

I  111;  (  ki>is  or    1S50. 

In  1S50  the  contest  o\(:r  sl.i\cr\-  had  become  so  fierct^  tli.it  it  threatened  to 
break  up  the  Inion.  The  advoiales  ot  sl,i\cry  were  bent  upon  its  extension, 
while  its  opponents  wished  to  restrict  it  to  the  States  where  it  airtvuK'  existeil. 
Webster  was  always  op|)osed  to  sl.ncry  ;  but  in  tlu:  crisis  of  1850,  he  thou<;ht 
tliat  all  otlur  measures  should  be  subordinate  to  thi-  preservati  )n  of  the  I'nion. 
.\o  one  had  done  more  than  he  to  streUL^then  and  perpetuate  the  I'nion  :  but 
it  was  his  coiniction  that  it  would  be  t!estro\cd  it  the  stru^i^le  o\('r  sla\cry 
cami'  to  an  issue  at  that  time.  I'". very  yc-ar  the  attachment  of  the  peo|)le  to  the 
I'nion  was  L;rowin^-  stroiiin'r.  b.very  year  the  fret'  States  were  ^ainini;-  upon 
the  slave  .States  in  streni^th,  population,  and  power.  If  tlu'  contest  over  slavery 
could  be  a\i'rted.  or  even  postponed,  sla\'ery  would  decline  and  ultimately  die 
out,  and  the  I'nioii  be  ])reser\('d  ;  while  it  the  conllict  were  precipitated,  tlu: 
liiion  would  be  destroyed,  .and  slavery  jjerpetuateil.  .Xccordin^ly,  he  L;ave  his 
support  to  the  Compromise  m^-asures  ;  ami  on  tlu;  7th  of  March,  1S50,  lu:  matle 
in  ad\'ocacv  of  them  the  nu)st  famous  spei'ch  of  his  life,  bi'fore  a  great  autlience, 
hushed  to  death  like  stillness,  in  the  .Senati?  chambcir. 

"  Ml'.  I'it.>iileiu,"'  Ml.  W'clister  lii\L;an,  "  f  wish  tn  sp(.'ak  to-dav,  not  as  a  Massacliusi'tts  man, 
nor  as  a  .Vorthcrn  man,  Inii  as  an  .Ainorican,  and  a  mcinlicr  of  llie  Senate  of  the  I'nited  States, — a 
liody  t'l  wliich  the  (niintrv  looks,  with  conridcnce,  for  wise,  moderate,  ])atrintic,  and  liealing 
<onn^ils.  it  is  not  to  he  denied  tlial  we  li\e  in  the  midst  oi  stronj;  aj,'itations.  and  are  surrounded 
li\  \ery  idnsideral)le  dan;,'ers  to  our  institutions  of  government.  'I'lie  imiirisoned  winds  are  let 
liiose.  The  K.ist,  tiie  \Ve>i,  llie  N'Mlh,  ,ind  the  storm\'  Suuth,  all  combine  to  throw  the  whole 
iieean  into  commotion,  to  toss  its  billows  to  the  skies,  and  disclose  its  profoundest  depths.  ...  I 
ha\e  a  part  to  act,  not  for  my  own  security  or  safely,  for  I  am  looking  out  for  no  t'raument  upon 
which  to  lloat  away  from  the  ure(  k.  if  wrec  k  there  must  be,  but  for  the  L;ood  of  the  whole,  and  the 
)ireservation  of  the  whole  :  an<l  there  is  that  which  will  keeji  me  to  my  iluty  during,'  this  struggle, 
whether  the  sun  and  the  stars  shall  appear,  or  shall  not  apjiear,  for  many  ilays.  I  speak  to-day  for 
the  preser\ation  of  the  I'ninii.  '  Hear  me  for  my  (.lU'-e.'  I  speak  to-day  out  of  a  solicitous  aiu! 
anxious  heart,  tor  the  restoration  to  the  country  of  that  ipiiet  and  that  harmony  which  make  the 
liles-ings  of  this  I'nion  so  rich  and  so  dear  to  us  all." 

The  Compromise  measures  befori;  the  .Senate  included  two  provisions  which 
were  particularly  (xliotis  to  the  North, — one  tor  the  extension  of  slavery  to  the 
territory  purchased  from  Mexico  :  the  other  for  a  nu:>re  strinocnt  law  for  the 
capture  and  return  of  fugitive  slaves.     Webster  in  his  speech  advocated  the 


202 


DAXIEL  WEBSTER. 


acceptance  of  these  provisions  as  part  of  tin;  Compromise,  and  in  doiiiL,''  so  c^ave 
^reat  offence  to  many  supporters  in  the  North,  who  had  looked  upon  him  ;is  a 
steadv  o|)ponent  of  slavery,  who  would  ne\e'r  \ii.-ld  an  inch  to  its  exactions. 
In  his  speech  W'e-hster  maintaine'd  that  the  constitution  recognized  th(;  rii^ht  of 
the  mastf.-r  to  the  return  of  his  escaped  slave,  and  that  its  obli^aticjns  coukl  not 
be  evaded  without  a  violation  of  i4()od  fiith.  As  to  the  territories,  he  ari^aied 
that  slavtiry  was  already  by  nature  exchuUxl  from  \c;w  Mexico,  which  was  not 
adapted  to  the  ])roducts  of  slave  labor,  and  that  to  "  roenact  a  law  of  '  iod," 
by  formally  excludinj^'  it,  was  a  needless  irritation   to  tin;  South.     AlthouL;h  he 

supported  his  position  with  i;reat 
force,  his  speech  was  ne'vertheh^ss 
regarded  by  anti-sla\-ery  nn-n  in 
the  Xorth  as  a  surrend'M-  to  the 
slave  power,  made  with  a  \iew  to 
securing;"  support  in  the  South  as 
a  candidate  for  the  Presidency. 
He  was  denounced  as  recrc^ant 
to  the  cause  of  freedom,  and  ac- 
cused of  hax'iui;-  soKl  hiniself  to 
the  .South.  'Ihese  char^x^s  did 
much  to  embitter  th(i  last  years 
of  his  life  ;  but  he  th-mly  adhert^d 
to  his  course,  supported  the  Com- 
promise measure  in  Congress, 
and  made  a  nimiber  of  spet'ches 
in  its  fa\or  throughout  the-  Xorth. 
vVfter  his  death  there  was  a  L^rad- 
ual  reaction,  ami  many  who  had 
condemnetl  him  came  to  admit 
that  his  course,  whether  wise  or 
not.  was  at  least  o-uided  liy  pure 
and  patriotic  motives. 
In  July,  1850,  while  the  Qreat  Com[)romise  was  still  before  Congress, 
Webster  was  appointed  by  President  Pillmore  .Secretary  of  State,  which  office 
he  held  until  his  deadi.  His  summer  home  was  an  immense  farm  at  Marshfield, 
near  Plymouth,  Massachusetts,  and  for  many  years  he  had  taken  the  keenest  in- 
terest in  all  die  ()i)erations  of  the  farm.  A  friend  who  was  often  with  him  tells 
how  he  enjoyed  his  cattle,  and  how,  on  one  occasion,  after  each  animal  was 
secured  in  his  place,  Mr.  Webster  amused  himself  by  feedinLif  them  with  ears 
of  corn  from  an  unhusked  pile  lyinq;  on  the  barn  floor.  As  his  son  was  trying 
to  keep  warm  by  playing  with  the  dog,  he  said : — 


MII.I.AIU)    FII.I.MORE. 


II/S  LAST  IhVRS.  203 

"  Vnu  do  not  sccni,  my  son,  to  take  much  interest  in  this  ;  l)ut,  for  m\'  part  " 
(and  liere  ht;  broke  an  ear  and  li  d  the  pjices  to  thi;  oxen  on  his  ri^ht  and  left 
and  watched  them  as  tlie_\-  crunched  iti,  "1  hke  it.  1  wouUl  rather  be  hen;  th'.ii 
in  the  Senate,"  adcHm;-,  with  a  smile-  which  slio'ved  all  his  white  teeth,  '  1  think 
it  better  C(jmi)any." 

In  May,  1S52,  while  drixiiiL;'  near  his  Marshtiekl  home,  Mr.  Webstt'r  was 
thrown  Iroin  the  carriage  anil  seriously  injured.  Although  he  reco\c'red  sutti 
ciently  to  visit  Washington  afterward,  he  n('\-er  rei^ained  his  health,  and  a  few 
months  kiter,  in  the  autumn  of  1S5J,  he  died  at  Marslitie-ld.  llis  death  and 
bm'ial  were  scenes  of  sublime  |)atiios.  hi  his  last  hours  he  manifested  a  strong 
desire  to  be  conscious  of  the  actual  approach  of  death,  and  his  last  word.-i  were, 
"'  I  still  live."  An  immense;  concour-^e  Leathered  at  his  funeral,  it  was  a  clear, 
lieautiful  autiiinn  da\',  ancl  his  bod\'  was  brouuiht  from  the  liouse  and  ])laced  <>n 
th(i  lawn,  imdcr  the  blue  sk\-,  when;  fcr  several  hours  a  stn-am  ol  people  of 
every  class  movetl  past,  to  L^aze  for  tin:  last  time  upon  his  majestic  le.uures. 
One,  a  j)lain  farmer,  was  heard  to  sa\-  in  a  low  xoice,  as  Ik;  turned  ;iway, 
"Danie!  Webster,  without  you  the  world  will  seem  lonesome." 

The  s[)Ot  where  Webster  r(;poses  is  upon  elevated  land,  and  overlooks 
the  sea,  his  mammoth  farm,  the  I'irst  I'arisli  Church,  and  most  of  the  town  of 
Marshfield,  wide  spreading;  marshes,  forests  remote  and  near,  the  tranquil  ri\'er, 
and  oiist(,'nin<;"  brooks.  ( )n  a  pleasant  day  the  sands  of  Cape  Cod  can  be 
descried  from  it,  thirty  mil(;s  directly  to  the  east,  where  the  Pilgrims  hrst  moored 
their  ship.  The  spot  is  ptM"fectly  retin-d  and  (piiet,  nothinL;-  beiuL,'' usually  heart! 
but  the  solemn  dirL,^e  of  the  ocean  and  the  answering-  sighs  of  the  winds.  It  is 
the  spot  of  all  others  for  his  rt;sting-[)lace. 

Ali  in  a  tem|)cnitc'  air.  a  ^oMcr.  li,L,'lu, 

Ricli  witli  Octoticr.  >aii  with  ancrnDon, 
Fitly  llis  franu;  was  laid,  with  rustic  rite. 

To  rest  amid  the  rijieiUHl  harvest  Ixioii. 
He  loved  the  ocean'-,  niii^luy  murmur  deep, 
And  this  shall  lull  him  throu;.;h  his  dreamless  sleep. 


9w^t^w*wm9mmm»»^0,t,£xrfw^09^^fm^'^^^*rww,^,,,,c*^^*m'* 


John    (  .  lALHoCS. 


OLD    UAIKd   AV   al.    AH.LnllM-,,    I'l.uKIUA. 


JOHN  C.  CALHOUN, 


THE    GREAT    .\n\'OCA.TE    OK    tSTATHS     RIGHTS. 


I'l'LW   years  aL;o    an   elderly  man,    who  h.ul   fought  in  the 

Union  arm\' throu^-h  tht;  i^reat  civil  war  of  iSoi,  was  listen- 

uv^  to  some  schoolhovs   rehcarsiiiL''  their  histor\'  lesson. 

•'When    was  the  tlrst  blow  struck  at  the  Tnion?" 

asked  one. 

"  ( )n  .\i)ril  I  _uh,  iS6i.  when  I'ort  Suinter  was  fn-ec] 
upon  by  batteries  in  Charleston  harbor,"  was  the  answer. 
"Xo!"  tlnuukn'ed  the  old  soldier,  breaking' in  ;  "the 
in>t  blow   at  the   I'liion  was  struck   in  iS:;^,  by  lohn  C.  Cal- 
houn; and  it  Andrew  Jackson  IkuI  liet.-n  President  in  iSoo,  instead 
of   lames  lUichanan,  there  would  have   been   no   L;un   firetl  on  I'ort 
Similer,  I  can  tell  you  !     Hon't  forget  ///cj/  bit  of  history,  boys  !" 

John  Caldwell  Calhouii  is  an  absolutely  unic|ue  figure  in  American 
I  lis  political  life  was  devoteil  to  the  establishment  anil  per])etuation  of 
slavery.  I  le  believed  that  institution  beneficial  alike  to  white  and  black,  to  North 
and  South, — in  a  word,  that  slavery  was  morally  ami  politically  /v';'///,  ami  that  the 
welfare  of  the  country  was  bound  up  with  its  continuance.  That  he  was  sincere 
in  this  conviction  cannot  be  doubted.  \\v.  was  one  of  th(;  most  honest  and  u{> 
rifjht  of  men  ;  there  was  no  conct'alment  or  pretence  in  him.  Asa  consequence 
of  his  purity  and  ability,  his  iniluence  was  immense.     His  own  State  accepted 

207 


h'story. 


:o8 


jo/f.y  c.  CAfjioiw. 


his  doctrines  ami  followed  his  h'ad  wiih  uiiqiicstioninj^  faith:  and  it  is  not  too 
much  to  say  that  th*^  _L;ntat  coniliL-t  over  slaver)'  and  disunion  was  in  t;rrat 
mea-iiire  due  to  the  doctrines  which  for  a  quarter  of  a  century  he  unceasingly 
advocated. 

Calhoun  was  born  in  Ahlunille,  Soutii  Carolina,  in  17.S2, — the  same  year 
as  his  ^Tcat  adversary,  Haniel  Webster.  It  was  just  at  t'lie  close  of  the  R«n() 
lution.  The  South,  wliicli  li;ul  borne  the  brunt  of  the  war  in  its  la-^t  years,  was 
worn  out  and  impoverished,  Calhoun's  father.  Patrick  Calhoun,  who  had  inimi- 
•.^rated  from  the  ncjrth  of  Ireland,  dietl  when  his  son  was  thirteen.  Neverthe- 
less, Calhoun  manaj.,^ed  to  work 
his  way  ihrou-^di  Vale  College, 
where  he  won  ilistiuL^^uished  hon- 
ors, lie-  ij^ed  to  relate  that  in 
his  senior  year,  wlvn  he  was  one 
of  the  very  !'-w  in  his  class  who 
maintained  <iemocratic  opinions, 
President  I  )wi^dit  asketl  him, 
■■  What  is  the  le-itimat(,'  source 
of  power.'"  '■  TIkj  people,"  an- 
swereti  Calhoun.  I  )r.  1  )wi*4hL 
combated  this  o])inion  :  Calhoun 
replied  :  and  the  whole  hour  of 
recitation  was  consumed  in  the' 
tlebate.  I  'r.  I  )wiu;ht  was  so 
much  struck  with  the  ability  dis- 
played by  the  student  that  he 
remarked  to  a  friend  that  Cal- 
houn hatl  talent  enouj^h  to  be  a 
President  of  the  I'nited  States. 
He  did  not  foresee  that  Cal- 
houn would  imbibe  ideas  which, 
loL,dcally  carried  out,  would  leave 
no  Cnited  .States  in  existence  to  recjuire  a   {'resident. 

After  two  years  in  the  South  Carolina  Lp'nslafure.  Calhoun  was  elected  to 
Congress  in  iSio.  where  he  ser\ed  until  1S17,  when  he  became  .Secretary  of 
War  under  I'resitlent  Monroe.  In  iS24he  was  elected  X'ice-PresideiU,  under 
John  Ouincy  Adams,  and  again  in  1S28,  when  .\ndrew  Jackson  was  elected 
President.  In  iS32he  resigned  the  \'ice-Presitlency  to  become  Senator  from 
-South  Carolina,  and  remained  in  the  .Senate  during  nearly  all  the  remainder  of 
his  life. 

In  iSiS  Congress  passed  a  tariff  bill  by  which  the  protective  duties  were 


JAMKS   MiiNROE. 


THE  XI 7. /.  'FICA  TIOX  />£/.'./  TE.  209 

considerably  incrcasctl.  'I'liis  Mil  was  bitterly  o|)|tosed  in  the  South,  wlnic  it 
was  styled  the  " 'laritt  of  Aliominations  ;  "  anil  on  its  passaij^e  Calhoun  pniJaicd 
a  most  remarkable  paper,  calleil  the  "South  Carolina  l'!.\position,"  in  which  he 
maintaine-d  that  tht;  Constitution  authorized  Con,:^r('ss  to  levy  taritt'  taxes  only 
for  revenue  :  that  proti'etive  ta\<'s  were-  therefore  unconstitution.il  ;  and  that  a 
State  had  liv  riL^ht  and  [)o\ver  to  declare  an  unconstitutional  law  null  and  \(>i(l, 
and  to  forbid  its  e\ecuti<}n  in  that  State.  It  was  tlv  purpose  ot  ihr  people  of 
South  Carolina  to  aj^itate  for  the  repial  of  tin-  obnoxious  law;  and,  in  case 
their  efforts  should  fiil,  to  resort  to  tin;  remedy  of  "  nullification."  "This  Ex- 
position," says  I'arton,  "was  the  bei^^innin^-  of  our  woe. — tlu'  baleful  ••^i^'  from 
which  were  h.itched  nullification,  treason,  civil  war,  and  the  desolation  of  tlu- 
Southern  .Slates."  It  was  issued  in  l)eceml>er.  1S2.S.  In  March.  1  Sjg.  the  lU'w 
e^overninent.  Jackson  at  its  heail,  came  into  power.  Calhoun,  beiii;^  reelected 
\'ict;-President.  still  held  his  chair  as  President  o\   the  .Senate. 

In  1S2Q  the  lon^-  debate  o\-er  the  (juestion.  Hoes  llu;  Constitution  niaki"  us 
one  sovereii^ii  nation,  or  only  a  leai,nit,'  of  sovereiL,ni  .States?  was  at  its  height. 
That  deb.ite  had  bt'L^un  as  soon  as  the  Constitution  was  ratified,  in  i7S,'s,  and  it 
continued  uiiiil  the  outbreak  of  the  w.u*  in  i,S6i.  l"or  main-  ye.irs  tJie  theory  of 
a  "compact,"  trom  which  a  .State  mi;4]it  withdraw  at  will,  was  maint.iiiied  by 
various  advocate's,  of  whom  Calhoun  was  the  foremost.  lie  supported  his  view 
with  L^reat  ability  and  inLi'enuity,  and  with  industry  and  dexotion  which  never 
lla^j^cd  or  wa\i'red.  In  his  own  .Stat('  his  doctrines  were  accepti'd  with  almost 
complete  uiKuiiinit)' ;  and  the  .Senators  and  RepresctUatives  in  Con L^ress  from 
.South  C.irolina  were  all  disciples  of  the  Calhoun  school.  In  th<;  .Senate,  as  he 
was  the  i)residinL;-  officer,  he  could  not  take  an  actixc;  part  in  debate  ;  l)ut  he  h;id 
an  able  su[)portc-r  in  (ieiieral  Robi-rt  V.  I  la\ne,  who  was  a  stron^"  and  ekxpient 
speaker.  In  lanuary.  i  .S j;(^,  the  aL.;"itation  in  Con^i'ess  culminated  in  the  famous 
encounter  of  1  la\ne  witii  Panied  Webster,  who  in  his  i^reat  speech  on  I'Oot's 
R(.'solution  utterly  tleinolislied  the  theorx- of  nullification  as  a  constitutional  ri^ht, 
and  mad<'  his  n<'\cr-to  be-fori^ottt'ii  i)lea  tor  indiss<jluble  union.  I  lavne  had 
maintained  that  nullitication  was  a  constitutional  remedv. — a  "  reserved  ri^ht." 
\\'el)ster  tore  this  th(jory  into  shreds  and  scatteretl  it  to  the  winds.  With  a 
j)ower  of  satire  under  which  1  layne  writhed  in  his  seat,  he  drew  a  picture  of 
practical  nullification  ;  he  showed  that  an  attempt  to  nullify  the  laws  of  the 
nation  was  treasiMi. — that  it  led  directly  and  necessarily  to  armed  force,  and 
was  nothing"  else  than  rexolution. 

And  to  revolution  .South  Carolina  now  proceedetl.  The  tariff  of  1S28  was 
not  repealed  ;  and  after  the  presidential  election  of  1.S32,  under  the  tlirection  of 
Calhoun,  who  had  resioned  the  \'icedVesidency.  a  convention  of  the  people  of 
the  State  was  called,  which  passed  the  famous  Ordinance  of  Nullification, 
duclariu''-  the  tariff  law  of  182S   null  and  void  in  South  Carolina.      General 


210 


/(V/.V  c.  cALiiorx. 


1  laync,  who  had  !i<(  n  I'liilcd  States  Senator,  was  inadir  (ioxcnior  of  South 
Carolina;  and  (."alhoiiii  was  eleeled  to  the  Senate  ol  tlie  I'nited  States.  ( )ii 
the  passaL^e  of  tlie  famous  ()r(hnaiUH;  of  Nullification  1)\-  tln'  people  of  South 
Carolina,  the  excitement  throuL;hout  the  I'nion  hecanie  intt-nse.  '1  he  apprehen- 
sion of  civil  war,  and  of  the  dissolution  of  the  Inion,  ])revaileil  everywhere. 

On  the  loth  of  I  )ecemlH,T,  iS;,j,  CiciU'ral  Jackson  issued  his  memorable 
proclamation  at^ainst   nullification.       1  his    was  foUowt'd    hy  ( io\  criior    llayne's 

counter  -  proclamation,      dc- 
.,,,.,■;;,,,      ,    ■^?^T5'""T^^?!!*^     fendin^^     th.'     position     as- 

sumeil  by  tlie  .^tate,  and 
calliniL,''  out  twelve  thousand 
\()lunt(,'ers.  'ihe  crisis  evi- 
ileiuK'  approached.  Tlie 
I  niled  .States  troops  were 
concentrated,  in  some  force, 
at  .\u!:,nista  and  Charleston, 
seemini^d)-  for  the  purpose  of 
repressin*,''  any  insurrection- 
ar\'  or  rebellious  movement 
in  the  State  ;  while  on  the 
other  side  ecpial  preparation 
was  made.  The  militia  in 
c(;rtain  sc-ctions  of  the  -State 
wc-re  called  out  and  drilled, 
muskets  were  ]nit  in  ortler, 
swords  cleaned  and  sharp- 
ened, and  de|)ots  of  provi- 
sions and  supplies  estab- 
lished. Officers,  natives  of 
the  .State,  in  the  United 
.States  army  and  navy,  con- 
templated resii^niin^'  their 
commissions,  and  takinq'  up 
arms  in  defense  of  the  .State  ;  and  some  foreijj^n  officers,  then  in  the  country, 
actuallv  tendennl  their  services  to  the  irovernor,  a'-ainst  the  forces  of  the 
_<;eni;ral  i^overnment. 

On  the  4th  of  January,  1833,  Mr.  Calhoun  took  his  seat  in  the  .Senate  of 
the  I'nion,  as  the  L,''reat  champion  of  nullification.  This  was  the  most  import- 
ant period  in  his  political  life — a  ])eriod  when  the  whole  resources  of  his  intellect 
were  put  forth  in  defense  of  his  favorite  doctrine.  1  lis  most  powerful  oratorical 
effort  was  made  on  the  15th  and  16th  of  l-'ebruary,  1832,  against  a  bill  "further 


hNlKANi.K    11    A    ecii  liiN-Y AKI',    M.W 


SriiliCIf  ox  Tim  IVKCH  IUU..  211 

to  provide  for  tin;  collection  of  tliitics  on  iinports."  Tiiis  u.is  the  (dclMMtid 
"  ['"orce  Mill,"  the  object  of  whiih  was  to  enable  the  1  rdcrai  cxiiutiM'  tociilorce 
th<,'  coll(;ctioii  of*  tht!  re-venue  in  South  Carolina. 

( )n  tlu-  15th  of  I'e'hruary.  Mr.  Calhoun  addn'ssed  thi- Senate,  lic^innin;;-  as 
follows  ;  "  Mr.  President,  I  know  not  whiih  is  most  oliicctioiialili',  the  provisions 
ot  the  bill,  or  ihi-  temper  in  which  its  adoption  has  been  ur^ed.  ll  th<' exira- 
ortlinarv  powers  with  which  the  bill  proposes  to  ( lothe  the  lv\ecuti\  e.  to  the 
utter  i)rostration  of  tlu;  Constitution  and  the  riLjhts  of  the  .States,  he.  calculat(,'cl 
to  impress  our  minds  with  alarm  at  the  rajml  progress  of  despotism  in  our 
country,  the  zeal  with  which  every  c  ircumsianre  cah  iilated  to  misrepresent  or 
e.vaiLj^Ljerale  the  conduct  of  Carolina  in  the  controversy  is  seized  on,  with  a  \ie\v 
to  excite  hostility  as^ainst  ln'r,  but  too  piainl}'  indicates  the  deep  decay  of  that 
brotherly  feelini^  which  once  e.xisted  b-'tween  thes(;  States,  and  to  which  \\r  arc 
ind(;l)te(l  for  our  beautiful  I'ech.-ral  systc-m.   .   .  . 

"It  has  been  saiil  by  the  senator  from  Tennessee^  (Mr,  (iruntly)  to  be  a 
measure  of  peace  !  Yes.  such  peace  as  the  wolf  j^'ives  to  the  lamb — the;  kite  to 
th(;  tlove.  Such  peace  as  Russia  _e;ives  to  Poland,  or  death  to  its  \ictim  '  A 
peace,  by  extinL^aiishinL^  the  political  existf.-nci,'  of  the  St.ite,  by  awin^  her  iiiti) 
an  abanilonment  of  the  exercise  of  every  p(jw(;r  which  constitutes  her  a  sovereien 
community.  It  is  to  Souiii  Carolina  a  <p.i(  stion  of  selt-preser\alion  ;  antl  I  pro- 
claim it.  that  should  this  bill  pass,  and  an  att(Miipt  be  mad«'  to  enforce  it,  it  will 
hv.  resisted  at  every  hazard — c;ven  that  ol  death  itself  De.ith  is  not  the  greatest 
calamitv  :  there  are  others  still  more  terribh;  to  th(!  fr^-e  and  bra\e,  and  amoiiL: 
them  may  l)e  placetl  the  loss  of  liberty  and  honor.  Ihcre  are  thousands  of  her 
brave  sons  who,  if  need  be,  are  prepared  cheerfully  to  lay  down  their  \\\vs  in 
defense  of  the  .State,  antl  the;  ^n-at  principles  of  constitutional  liberty  for  which 
she  is  contendiuLf.  (loil  forbid  that  this  should  become.-  necessary!  It  never 
can  be,  u  iless  this  L,ff)vernnient  is  resolvetl  to  brini,;'  the  (pu-stion  to  (-xtremity, 
when  her  <^allant  sons  will  staml  prepareil  to  pertorm  the  last  ihity — to  die 
noblv. 

"  In  the  same  spirit,  we  are  tokl  that  the  I'nion  must  be  preserv(;d,  without 
reo^ard  to  tlu;  means.  And  how  is  it  proposed  to  preserve  the  I'nion?  Uy 
force!  I  )oes  any  man  in  his  siMises  believe  that  this  beautiful  structure — this 
harmonious  ai^j.^rei^ate  of  States,  produced  bv  the  joint  consent  of  all — can  be 
preserved  by  force?  Its  very  introduction  will  be  the  certain  destruction  of  this 
Federal  I'nion.  Xo.  no.  Vou  cannf)t  keep  tin;  .States  united  in  their  constitu- 
tional and  Federal  bonils  by  force.  I'orce  ma\'.  indeed,  hold  the  parts  toi^ether. 
but  such  union  would  be  the  bond  b(-tw(H-n  master  and  sla\e  :  a  union  of  e.xac- 
tion  on  one  side,  and  of  unqualified  obedience  on  the  other." 

In  spite  of  Mr.  Calhoun's  efforts,  the;  "  I'orce  Pill  "  was  passed  ;  and  it  is 
said   that   President  Jackson   privately  warned  him  that  the  moment  news  was 


213 


y(V/\  c.  (.i/.//i^f'x. 


recL'i\((l  of  rrsistaiicc  to  ilv  ( lose  iiiiniu  in  South  Carolina,  he  i  Calhoun  i  would 
Ix:  arri'sti.-d  on  a  thariL,^'  ol  trcj'.soii.  At  the  saim:  tinir,  however,  inipori.int 
coiuessions  wire  inadi-  to  South  C"aroliiia.  by  whiih  th»;  threatt-nt-'cl  conllict  was 
avoided.  ill  I'Chrnarv.  Ilenrv  Clav  introiUiced  in  Coiinrcss  a  comni-oinisc 
taritt  hill.  l>y  which  the  existiii!^'  duties  w«Tt.'  to  be  decreaseil  t^ach  yi;ar  until  they 
reaehed  a  inininuun   ol   twe-nly  per   icnt.  in   i.S.p,      Ai;cordin;^dy,  each  party  in 


Wl.KV     IIMKS. 


the   contro\-ersy  claimed   to  ha\  e  triuinpheil  ;   and   th(.'   crisis   passed,    without 
finallv  and  torniallv  settling;'  the  (luesiion  of  nuUiticalion. 

Tin:  si wiKV  alhatimn. 

Durini^  Jackson's  administration  slavery  became  the  chief  question  of  jx)!!- 
tics.  Texas  achieveil  her  imlependence.  and  the  cpiestion  of  her  annexation  to 
the  United  .States  as  a  slave  .State  caused  an  exciting,''  and  ant^'ry  contest.  In  the' 
1  louse  of  Representatives.  John  (hiinc)'  Adams  beean  his  famous  crusade  for 
the  ri^ht  of  petition,  and  the  contest  over  petitions  for  the  abolition  of  slavery 
convulsed  the  House.  In  all  these  years  of  stormy  debate,  Calhoun  was  always 
the  defender  of  slavery.  I  le  made  no  apolo^^-ies.  but  proclaimed  it  a  rinhteous, 
just,  and  beneficial  institution  :  and  he  rei^ardi^d  all  efforts  to  abolish  or  restrict 
it.  or  to  prevent  the  catching;  and  return  of  fuiijitives.  as  an  interference  with  the 
ri*'hts  of  the  slave  States  which  would  iustifv  their  secession  from  the  Union. 


A//SS  J//JA77A7.jr'.S  SKIiTClf.  213 

M'ss  1  larrict  Martincan,  who  visited  thf  I'liilcd  Stales  at  this  liiiu-,  has  re- 
cor<lt;cl  in  h«:r  "  Kctrospcct  ot"  Western  Inud  "  her  iin[)rc:ssi()ns  of  Mr.  Calhoun. 
She  writes  : — 

"  Mr.  ( 'allioiin  followi'd,  ,111(1  imiiri»ctl  iiR' MTV  ^trdii-lv.  Whilf  lu;  kt'|il  to  llic  (iiR^tinii, 
what  lie  >ai(l  was  close,  nood,  and  niodiTati',  th(iiij,'ii  ikiivcrcd  in  rapid  siioc(  ii,  and  with  a  voice 
not  sut'ticicntly  mndiilatcd.  lint  when  ho  l)ej,'an  to  rciily  to  a  taunt  of  Colonel  llcnton's,  that  lie 
wanted  to  he  ['resident,  the  forre  ol  his  speaking  l)craine  paintul.  He  made  protestations  which  it 
seemed  to  stranjjers  had  belter  lia\e  been  spared,  'that  he  would  not  turn  on  his  heel  to  be  ['resi- 
dent,' and  that  'he  had  i^iven  up  all  for  iiisown  brave,  maiinaniiiious  little  State  of  South  Carolina.* 
While  thus  |)rotestiiig,  his  eyes  (lashed,  his  brow  seemed  (  har;,'ed  with  thunder,  his  voice  became 
almost  a  bark,  and  his  senteiKes  were  abrupt,  intense,  produf  iiig  in  the  auditory  a  sort  of  laugh 
which  is  s<|uee/e(l  out  of  people  by  an  appli(  .itioii  of  a  very  sudden  mental  force. 

"  .Mr.  Calhoun's  countenaiue  first  fixed  my  attention  :  the  splendid  eye,  the  straight  forehead, 
surmounted  by  a  load  of  stiff,  upright,  dark  hair,  the  stern  i)row,  the  iiillc\ii>le  mouth, — it  is  one  of 
the  most  remarkable  heads  in  the  (oniitry." 

Miss  Martinean's  sketch  of  the  three  j.,freat  statesmen  of  the  time  is  espe- 
cially interestini:,' : — 

"  .Mr.  Clay  sitting  upright  on  the  sofa,  with  his  snuff-box  e\er  in  his  hand,  would  discourse  for 
iii.my  an  hour  in  his  even,  soft,  deliberate  tone,  on  any  one  of  ijie  great  -.ubjectsof  American  policy 
whi(  h  we  might  happen  to  start,  always  ama/iiig  us' with  tlie  moderation  of  estimate  and  speech 
which  50  imiietuous  a  nature  has  been  able  to  attain.  Mr.  Webster,  leaning  back  at  his  ea.se,  telling 
stories,  cracking  jokes,  shaking  the  sofa  with  burst  alter  burst  of  laughter,  or  siiKiothly  discoursing 
to  the  i>erfect  felicity  of  the  logical  jart  of  one's  constitution,  would  illuminate  an  evening  now 
.md  then.  Mr.  Caiiioun.  the  cast-iron  man.  who  looks  as  if  he  luid  ne\er  been  iiorii  and  could 
ne\er  be  e\tingui:Oied.  would  come  in  sometimes  to  keep  our  understanding  on  a  painl'ul  stretch  for 
a  short  while,  and  leave  us  to  take  to  ]iieces  his  close,  rapid,  theoretical,  illustrated  talk,  ai^.d  S'c 
what  we  could  m,.ke  cjf  it.  We  found  it  usuallv  more  worth  retaining  as  a  curiosity,  than  as  eillur 
very  just  or  useful. 

"I  know  of  no  man  who  lives  in  such  utter  iiitelleciual  solitude.  He  meets  men  and 
harangues  by  the  fireside  as  in  the  Senate;  he  is  wrought  like  a  piece  of  mai  hiner\-,  set  going 
vehemently  by  a  weight,  and  stojis  while  )ou  answer ;  he  either  jasscs  by  what  }'oii  sa\ ,  or  twists  it 
into  a  suitability  with  what  is  in  his  head,  and  begins  to  lecture  again." 

Miss  Martineau  also  saw  Calhoun  in  .South  Carolina,  where;  he  was  the 
political  teacher  and  o'liide,  and  the  acknowledo(.:d  chief: — 

"  During  m\  stay  in  Charleston,  Mr.  (  ;illioun  and  his  family  arrived  from  Congress,  and 
there  was  something  very  striking  'n  the  welcome  he  rec  eived.  like  tluit  of  a  chief  returned  to  the 
bosom  of  his  clan.  He  stalked  about  like  a  iiuuiarc  h  of  the  little  domain,  and  there  was  certainly/ 
an  air  of  mysterious  undersianding  between  him  .iiul  his  followers." 

The  ao-jtation  of  the  slavery  question,  from  1S35  to  i<S50.  was  chiellv  the 
work  of  this  one  man.  "  The  labors  of  Mr.  Garrison  and  Mr.  Wendell  Phillips," 
says  Parton,  "  mi^ht  have  borncMio  fniit  diirino;  their  lifetime,  if  Caiiioun  had  not 
made  it  his  Inisiness  to  supply  them  with  material,  '  I  mean  to  force  the  issue 
upon  the  Xorth,'  he  once  wrote  ;  and  he  did  force  it.  The  denial  of  the  right 
13 


214 


JOIfX  C   C.I /.//OCX. 


of  petition,  ihc  anm^xation  of  Texas,  the  forciiiLT  of  slavery  into  the  Territories, 
— these  were  ainont^r  the  issues  upon  whicii  h(;  hoped  to  unite  tlie  South  in  his 
tavor,  while  relaininn' enoui^li  streiis^th  at  thi;  North  to  s(xurc?  his  eh;ction  to  the 
Presidency.  l-'aiiiiiL,''  in  all  his  schemes  of  personal  acKanceinent,  he  tlied  in  i  S50, 
still  protesting-  that  slavery  is  di\  ine,  and  that  it  must  rule  this  country  or  ruin  it." 
Calhoun's  life  came  to  an  end  in  March,  1850,  before  the  Compromise  P)ill 
of  that  year  had  cjnce  nuM'e  postponed  the  "irrepressible  conllict."     On  the  4th 


CiiliiMM.    MANSION.       K IISI DKNCK    ol'     IIIK    I.AIi;    WII.I.IAM    lUI.I.    rRIMW.K,    KSi.;.,    Cll  ARLK.STU.N,    S.    C. 


of  March  his  last  speech  was  read  in  the  Senate  by  a  friend,  he  then  beinjr  too 
weak  to  deliver  it.  Three  days  afterward,  when  Webster  delivered  his  famous 
"  7th  of  March  speech,"  Calhoun  literally  ros(;  from  his  dyinij;-  bed  that  he  mig^ht 
be  present,  and  sat  for  the  last  time  in  his  accustomed  seat,  his  ri^id  face  and 
intense  '^d/.r.  giving  him  a  weird  aiul  unearthly  aspect.  On  the  24th  of  the  same 
month  he  dietl  ;  and  his  ashes  were  taken  to  Charleston,  there  to  mingle  with 
the  soil  of  the  State  to  which  he  had  given  a  life's  devotion,  and  which  had  re- 
garded him  with  unfailinu'  love  and  honor. 


SAMUEL  HOUSTON, 

A.ND    THE    ST01>iY    OK    TEXAN     INOEPEX OEXCE. 


F    TME    thirty-one   States   of   the   I'nion   which  have 
been  added  to  the  original  thirteen,  Tc^xas  is  distin- 
guished  as    the    only  one  which    previously   had  a 
separate  and  intlependent  national   existence  ;    and 
no   more  picturesque   or  unicpie  character  is  found 
aniouL;  American  jjublic  men  than  he  whose  name  is 
inseparably  associated  with  that  ot  Texas, — her  leader, 
her  defender,   her  President,   her   Governor, — Samuel 
Houston. 

In  the  latter  part  of  the  eighteenth  century  the  rich 
*'  %  "  but  wild  regions  of  Kentucky  and  Tennessee  were  the  para- 
dise of  hunters  and  pioneers  ;  and  here  grew  up  a  race  of 
statesmen  of  a  new  and  distinct  type, — men  like  Jackson,  Clay,  and  IJenton, 
— strong,  brave,  and  hardy,  original  and  ready  of  resource,  but  with  little  educa- 
tion, and  having,  as  the  French  say,  "  the  tlefects  of  their  qualities."  I  louston 
was  of  this  class.  He  was  born  in  Rockbridge  ctnmty,  X'irginia,  in  1793. 
When  only  thirteen,  his  fatlu^r  died  ;  and  with  his  moth(M"  and  eight  other  chil- 
dren he  crossed  the  mountains  into  Tennessee,  where  they  settled  on  the  Ijanks 
of  the  Tennessee  River,  at  what  was  then  the  limit  of  emigration.  Heyontl  the 
river  lay  the  country  of  the  Chcn-okees  ;  antl  during  a  large  part  of  Houston's 
boyhood  he  actually  lived  among  the  Indians,  learning  their  ways  and  ac(piiring 
their  language.  I  le  always  was  lookeil  u|)  to  by  the  Indians  as  a  leader.  A 
story  is  told  that  in  1S46,  when  he  was  in  Congress,  a  j)arty  of  forty  wild  Indians 
was  brought  to  Washington  from  Texas  by  General  Moorhead  ;  and  when  they 
met  Houston,  they  one  and  all  ran  to  him,  greeted  him  with  delight,  hugged 
him  like  bears  in  their  brawny  arms,  antl  called  him  "father." 

Houston  fought  under  Jackson  in  the  war  of  181  2,  and  was  desperately 
wounded  in  battle  with  the  Creek  Indians.  When  the  famous  battle  of  New 
Orleans  put  an  eml  to  the  war,  he  studied  law,  and  soon  l)egan  to  practice.  1  le 
rose  rapidly  in  his  profession,  was  chosen  district  attorn(!y,  elected  to  Congress 
in  1823  a-«d  1825,  and  in  1827,  when  thirty-four  years  old,  was  elected  Governor 

217 


2l8 


SAMUEL  HOUSTON. 


of  Tennessee.  His  proj^ress  hatl  bec;n  wonderfully  rapid  ;  he  was  one  of  the 
most  popular  men  of  his  State  ;  he  mii^dit  aspire  to  the  hi<;hest  positions,  with 
every  prospect  of  success.  liut  in  1829  an  event  occurred  which  completely 
chan<;ed  the  course  of  his  life. 

In  January,  1829,  he  married  Miss  Eliza  Allen,  a  young  lady  of  excellent 
family,  and  of  the  hi(^hest  character.  The  union  seems  to  have  been  as  unhappy 
as  it  was  short.  In  less  than  three  months  a  separation  took  place,  which  filled 
society  with  excitement.  X'arious  reports  flew  throu_<.,'-h  the  State,  which  divided 
the  people  into  two  hostile  parties,  and  inllamed  popular  feeling  to  the  last  point 


A    .-Cl-.NK    I'N     ll.XA^    ri.AlNS — DlSll'ir.    UVKR    A    liKANll. 


of  excitement.  The  friends  of  the  lady  loaded  the  name  of  Governor  Houston 
with  odium.  1  le  was  charged  with  e\ery  tlegree  of  crinie.  The  very  ignorance 
of  the  community  about  the  affair,  by  increasing  the  mystery  which  hung  over 
it,  only  made  it  seem  the  more  terrible. 

In  the  meantime,  Houston  did  not  offer  a  single  denial  of  a  single  calumny 
— would  neither  vindicate  himself  before  the  public,  nor  allow  his  friends  to  do 
it  for  him.  Not  a  word  ('ver  fell  from  his  lips  that  cast  a  shade  upon  her  charac- 
ter, nor  did  he  ever  allow  an  unkind  breath  against  her  in  his  presence. 

In  consequence   of   this  unhappy  affair,   Houston    determined  to  forsake 


■JJiXAS  AXD  MliXICO. 


■19 


civilized  life,  lit;  rc.-sii^ncd  the  office  of  governor,  turned  his  back  upon  the  haunts 
of  white  men,  antl  took  refui^e  in  the  forests  among"  his  old  Iriends,  the  Indians. 
Whih;  roving  in  his  youth  among  the  Cheroket's,  he  had  tounil  a  Iriend  in  their 
chief,  Oolooteka,  who  adopted  him  as  his  son.  ami  ga\e  him  a  curner  in  his 
wigwam.  The  cliicf  with  Ills  tribe  afterward  removed  to  Arkansas.  I  )uring 
their  s(.'|)aration  of  more  than  tm  years,  lu'  and  Houston  hatl  continually  inter 
changtnl  tokens  of  their  kind  tecling  ;  and  1  louston  ikjw  turned  his  face  to  liLs 
Indian  home,  knowing  that  he  wo'.dd  be  gresited  then-  with  the;  old  chief's 
blessing.  I'or  three  years  he  lived  among  the  Indians,  and  as  one  of  them  ;  and 
from  his  n-treat  in  th(;  southwest  he  watched  with  keen  IiUerest  the  progress  of 
events  in  tin;  fertile  country  across  the  Me.\ican  frontier. 

I11  the  year  iSar,  Mexico,  which  had   u[)  to  that  time  belongtMl  to  .Spain, 
declanid  herself  independent,   and 
took  vigorous  measures  to    induce 
the      sc!ttlement 
and    cultivation 
of   her    unoccu- 
pied territory. 
Te.xas  soon  be- 
gan to  be  popu- 
lated   by    immi- 
gration, a  large 
part  of  which  was 
from     the     I'nited 
States.        r.y      the 
year      1^30     there 
\v(,'re  about  twenty 
thousand      .Vmeri- 
can    settlers   there, 

who  were  unanimous  in  their  detestation  of  Mexican  government,  and  in  a  state 
of  chronic  revolt.  In  1S32  they  rose  against  the  Mexicans,  and,  after  several 
battles,  drove  all  the  troops  out  of  the  country.  I  louston  saw  what  was  going 
on,  and  determintxl  to  cast  in  his  lot  with  th(.'   I'exans. 

There  can  be  little  doubt  that  there  was  an  understanding  between  Houston 
and  President  Jackson,  and  that  the  former  had  the  aid  and  countenance  of  the 
President  in  his  effort  to  help  achieve  Texan  independence.  More  territory 
was  needed  in  the  United  States  for  the  extension  of  slavery.  It  must  be  .sought 
on  the  .South  :  for  slavery  was  shut  out  of  the  northern  territory  by  the  Mis- 
souri Compromise.  (Sec  Hkxrv  Ci..vv.)  The  inhabitants  of  Texas  were  mainly 
immigrants  from  the  United  .States.  If  the  country  were  detached  from  Mexico, 
the  people  would  undoubtedly  seek  to  be  annexed  to  the  Union.     They  wanted 


AN    III. I)    SPANISH     IldlSK. 


220  SAMC/:L  1 10  us  ION. 

a  Icadi-r.  1  Iniistnn  rcsolxcd  to  Ix;  their  leader;  and  with  this  view  he  left  the 
wiujwain  of  the  Cheroki^e  c:hi(.:t,  and  set  out  tor   Texas  in  l)ec(Mnl)er,   1S32, 

lor  two  years  after  Houston  joined  fortunt.'s  with  Texas  tlu.'re  was  com- 
parative- quiet  ;  hut  ininiiL^ralion  went  on  in  a  steadily  increasing;'  stream,  and 
the  sentiment  tor  independence;  L;r<:\v  stron^^cr  ex'eryday.  The  Mexican  L;()vt;rii- 
nient.  in  fear  of  tlu;  i^rowiiiL;'  striMiL^th  of  Texas,  ordered  that  the  jjcople  shoulil 
be  disarmed, — a  decree  which  arouscnl  instant  rebellion.  A  compan)'  of  Mexi- 
can NolditM's  sent  t(.)  the  little  town  of  Cionzales,  on  the  (iuadaUipe,  to  rt-move  a 
small  l)rass  six-pounder,  was  met  a  few*  miles  from  the  town  b\'  one  huntlrc^d 
and  eighty  Texans.  who  ivW  upon  them  with  such  viL^oi*  that  they  turned  and 
tleil,  ht^iuL,'' sever.d  men.  Xo  lexan  was  killetl.  'This  l)altl(;  was  called  "the 
LexiuL^ton  of  Texas." 

I  hen  war  broke  out  ay;ain  more  furiously  than  ever.  'l"he  Mexican  soldiers, 
who  wi-re  under  weak  and  incompetent  commanders,  were  attain  tlispersed  and 
driven  out  of  the  country.  lUit  now  Santa  Anna  himself  the  Mexican  1  )ictator. 
an  able  Lj;eneral,  but  false  and  cruel,  took  the  lield.  With  an  army  of  si:veral 
thousanil  men,  he  crosseel  the'  Rio  Cirande,  and  marched  against  iIk;  'Texans. 

'The  town  of  ISexar,  on  the;  .San  Antonio  River,  was  defended  by  a  y^arrison 
of  about  one  hunt!r<'d  and  seventy-five  nu^n.  AmonL,''  th-  in  wen;  two  whose 
names  arc  still  famous,  —  1  )a\id  Crockett,  the  remnvned  pioiu-er,  antl  Colonel 
lames  Howie,  noted  for  his  murderous  "bowie-knife,"  his  duels,  and  his  deeds 
of  valor  and  shame.  The  comjiany  was  commanded  by  Colonc;!  W.  ixirrett 
'Tra\is,  a  brav(;  youni^-  Texan.  On  tlu;  approach  of  .Santa  .\nna,  the)-  took 
refui^^e  in  the  Alamo,  about  half  a  mile  to  the  north  of  the  town. 

'The;  Alamo  was  an  ancient  T'ranciscan  mission  of  the  eighteenth  century. 
It  covered  an  area  of  about  three  acres,  surrounded  by  walls  three  f(;(:t  thick  and 
ei^ht  feet  hi^h.  Within  the  walls  were  a  stone  church  and  se\-eral  other  build- 
ini^s.  T'or  two  weeks  it  withstood  .Santa  Anna's  assaults.  A  shower  of  bombs 
and  cannon-balls  fell  incessantly  within  the  walls.  At  last,  after  .1  bra\-e  defense 
by  the  little  L;ai'i"ison,  the  fortress  was  captured,  in  the  early  mornini;- of  .Suntlay, 
March  oth,  i  S;/).  .\fter  the  surrender,  'Travis,  Howie,  and  Crockett,  with  all 
their  companions,  were  by  .Santa  Anna's  especial  command  massacred  in  cold 
blood. 

Hut  this  was  not  tlie  worst;  a  f(;w  davs  afttM'ward  a  company  of  over  four 
hundred  'Texans,  under  Colonel  Tannin,  besic;L;ed  at  (loliad,  were  induced  to 
.surrender,  under  .Santa  .Anna's  solemn  promis(;s  of  protection.  .\ft(;r  the  sur- 
render th(;y  were  divided  into  sc;veral  companies,  marched  in  different  dir(;ctions 
a  short  distance  out  of  the  town,  and  shot  down  like  dogs  by  the  Mexican 
soldiers.      Not  a  man  escaped. 

While  these  horrible  events  were  taking  place,  Houston  was  at  Gonzales, 
with  a  force  of  less  than  four  hundred  m(;n.      Mi^etings  were  held  in  the  differ- 


I  \i,i.  I  IF  riir,  Ai.AMii, 

When  li.ivi.l  Crcicki'll  .iii.l  1 50  of  hi,   coni|i.uii"iis  were  ma-.s;u:ic<l  liy  the  Mexicans. 


222  SAMUEL  HOUSTOX. 

ent  settlements  to  raise  an  army  to  resist  the  M<'.\ican  invasion  :  and  a  conven- 
tion of  the  pe()[)le  issued  a  proclamation  declarin;^  lexas  a  Ireeantl  independent 
republic.  It  was  two  weeiss  Ix^tore  (jeneral  Houston  received  inlelliL^ence  of 
the  atrocious  massacres  at  l)(;.\ar  anil  (ioliad.  and  of  Santa  Anna's  ad\ance 
The  country  was  in  a  state   of  panic.     Settlers   were  everywhere  abandoning 


^"^^j 


■£:    $X>i=^- 


y-"^  riC^'-'^  %  f  *%U"'5i '.'i  - ",-  T&i^  -'^, 


THE   C.nLIAU    MASSACRE. 


their  homes,  and  lle(Mn^'  in  terror  at  the  approach  of  the  Mexican  soldiers. 
Houston's  force  of  a  few  hundred  men  was  the  only  defense  of  Texas  :  and 
even  this  was  diminished  by  fre<|U(Mit  ilesertion  from  the  ranks.  The  cause  of 
Texan  freedom  seemed  utterly  hopeless. 

In  order  to  gain  time,  whihi  watchinj^  his  opportunity  for  attack,  HoustOP 


TRIUMPH  OF  SAX  JAC/Xm.  223 

slowly  retreated  bc^foro  the  Mexican  army.  Aflt-r  waiting;'  two  weeks  for  rein- 
forcements, he  m()V(;(l  toward  lUiltalo  liayou,  a  dt^cp,  narrow  stream  connecting' 
with  the  San  Jacinto  River,  about  twenty  miles  southeast  of  iIk;  present  city  of 
Houston.  ll(r(;  he  expected  to  meet  the'  Mexican  army.  The  lines  bcin^^ 
formed,  (ieneral  1  lonston  made  one  of  his  most  impassioned  and  eloijuent 
ap|)eals  to  his  troops,  liriiiL;  <'very  breast  by  .L;ivin!^-  as  a  watchword,  "  Ki;.mi;.mi;i;u 
nil;  Ai.AMo." 

Soon  the  Mexican  Lui^lc^s  ran^,'' out  o\cr  the  prairie,  announciiin- tlie  advance 
guard  of  the  eiH;m\',  almost  eii^hteen  huntlreil  stroiii^.  The  rank  and  tile  of  the 
patriots  was  less  than  sctven  hundred  and  fifty  men.  Their  disadvanta_L(es  but 
served  to  increase  the  enthusiasm  of  the  soldiers  ;  and  when  their  iL,feneral  said, 
"Men,  there  is  the  enemy:  do  you  wish  to  flight?"  tht;  universal  shout  was, 
*'  W'e  tlo  !  "  "  Well,  then,"  he  said,  "  remember  it  is  (or  liberty  or  death  ;  roiicm- 
bcr  the  Alamo  !  " 

At  the  moment  of  attack,  a  lieutenant  came  L^^allopinL;;-  up,  his  horse  cov- 

.  creil  widi  foam,  aiul  shouted   along  the  lines,  "  I've  cut  (\o\\n  X'ince's  bridge" 

Each   army  hatl   used  this  bridge   in   coming  to  the  battle-field,  antl  General 

Houston  had  ordereil  its  dt^struction,  thus  pn-venting  all  hoj)e  of  escape  to  the 

vancpiished. 

Santa  Anna's  f  )rc(!s  wen^  in  j)erf(?ct  order,  awaiting  the  attack,  and  reserved 
their  fire  until  the  patriots  were  within  sixty  paces  of  their  works.  Then  they 
poured  forth  a  volley,  which  went  over  the  heads  of  the  attackers,  though  a  ball 
struck  (ieneral  1  louston's  ankle,  inllicting  a  very  jjainful  wound.  Though  suf 
fering  and  bleetling,  Cieneral  Houston  kept  his  saeklle  during  the  entire  action. 
The  patriots  hekl  their  fire  until  it  was  given  to  the  enemy  almost  in  their  very 
bosoms,  and  then,  having  nn  time-  to  reloatl,  matle  a  general  rush  upon  the  foe, 
who  were  altogether  unprepared  for  th.e  furious  charge.  The  patriots  not  hav- 
ing bayonets,  clubbed  their  ritles.  .About  half-past  four  the  Mexican  rout 
began,  and  closed  only  widi  the  night.  Seven  of  the  patriots  were  killed  and 
twenty-three  were  woumletl,  while  the  Mexicans  had  six  hundretl  and  thirty-two 
killed  and  woundtxl ;  and  seven  hundred  and  thirty,  among  whom  was  Santa 
Anna,  w(;re  made  prisoners. 

The  victory  of  .San  lacinto  struck  the  fetters  forever  off  the  hands  of  Texas, 
and  drove  back  the  standartl  of  Mexico  beyond  the  Rio  Grande,  never  to 
return  except  in  predatory  and  transient  incursions.  General  Houston  became 
at  once  the  leading  man  in  Texas,  almost  universal  applause  following  hira. 
As  soon  as  quiet  and  order  were  restored,  he  was  made  the  first  President  of 
the  new  republic,  under  the  Constitution  adopted  November,  1S35. 

General  Houston's  first  term  as  President  of  Texas  closed  in  December, 
183S.  During  the  term  of  his  successor.  General  Houston  served  two  years  in 
the  Congress  of  the  young  republic.     He  did  much  good  to  the  country,  on  one 


924 


SAMUEL  HOUSTON. 


occasion  prtivtMUinL,^  an  actual  dissolution  of  the  Texan  t^oviTnincnt  by  the 
maL,nc  of  his  ii^n-cat  speech  in  Conj^^rcss,  when  that  body  was  just  on  the  point 
of  ailjourniiiLj  sine  die. 

Un    May  9,    1S40,   he  married   his  second  wife,   Miss   Mari^^anit   M.   Lea, 

of  Alabama,  a  most 
worthy  woman,  who 
had  a  j^rcat  inlluence 
tor  L^ood  over  her 
husband.  1  b;  often 
said  that  to  her  he 
owed  his  chief  Iion(jr 
and  happiness.  I  hi 
was  deeply  attached 
to  h(;r,  and,  when  a 
Senator  at  W'ashinir- 
ton,  inxariably  spent 
his  Sunday  after- 
noons in  writiiiL^  to 
her  and  his  family. 

One  of  the  ques- 
tions presented  by 
our  Presidential  elec- 
tion of  I S44  was  the 
annexation  of  Texas, 
■which  took  place  in 
1845  ;  and  ex-Presi- 
dent Houston  and  his 
fast  friend  and  com- 
patriot, (ieneral 
Thomas  ].  Rusk, 
were  made  her  first 
Senators,  takin_ir  their 
seats  in  January, 
1S46.  Th(!se  men 
of  commandiu!^  mien 
produced  something 
of  a  sensation,  com- 
'\\v^  to  sit  in  the  na- 
tion's council-house  as  the  representatives  of  a  people  who  had,  of  their  own  free 
will,  i^nven  u])  their  national  existence  to  become  merely  an  intejj^ral  part  of  our 
Union.     I  louston's  course   in  the   Senate  was  conservative.     He  voted  for  the 


A    IIUCKINC   IIRONCHO. 


GOVERXOR  OJ'  //{.WIS.  jj5 

Oret,'on  boundary  coinpromist.',  and,  if  he  could,  would  have  av(;rti'd  the  war  with 
Mexico.  After  the  i)assa>,fe  of  the  conijironiise  measures  of  1S50.  there  was  no 
more  popular  man  in  th(;  South  than  (icncral  lloiiston,  and,  in  1S52,  he  was  a 
prominent  candiilate  for  the  Presidency  before  ihv  I  )(in()cratic  convention.  1  le 
had  i)lact;il  himself  in  stron^^'  op|)osition  to  the  secession  spirit  shown  in  1S50,  thus 
losint^  some  of  his  most  inlluential  .Southern  supjjorters.  In  1S59  he  was  made 
the  Union  candidate  for  ;..,a)vernor.  With  patriotic  zeal  he  d<clared,  "  ' '1  he 
Constitution  and  the  Union  '  is  my  only  platform."  and  made  but  one  spec^ch, 
which  was  the  best  of  his  life.      He  was  elected  by  more  than  2000  majority. 

Almost  the  tlrst  act  of  the  new  governor  was  to  send  in  a  sterling  message 
in  reply  to  th(!  proposition  made  by  .South  Carolina  in  i860  for  a  convention  of 
slaveholding  States,  with  a  view  to  sece'ssi(jn.  I  louston's  e\-ery  (.'ff(jrt  and 
sentiment  were  for  the  preservation  of  the  Union  ;  aiul  his  conduct  as  gover- 
nor, in  staniling  almost  alone  against  the  title  of  s(.'c(.'ssion,  was  noth'ss  glorious 
than  when,  a  (piarter  of  a  century  before,  he  had  led  his  litth,'  army  against  the 
forces  of  Santa  Anna  at  .San  Jacinto.  Wr.  made  a  speech  at  Galveston,  in 
which,  with  prophetic  power,  he  warned  the  people;  of  the  disastrous  ccMise- 
quences  of  secession.  While  he  was  speaking,  one  horse  of  a  team  standing 
near  became  restive,  and  attempted  to  kick  o!it  of  the  harness.  Houston  paused 
in  his  speech  :  "  He  Is  trying  a  little  practical  secession,"  he  remarked,  to  the 
amusement  of  his  audi(Mice.  The  horse  fmally  choked  himself  down,  and  the 
teamster  began  beating  him.  "  Vou  see  how  it  works,"  said  Houston.  After  his 
beating,  the  horse  was  got  u|)on  his  f(;et,  and  the.  teamster  fasteiKxl  the  broken 
harness.  "  See  in  what  a  fix  he  is  brought  back  into  the  Union  !"  said  the  ready 
orato/,  amid  applause  and  laughter. 

Hut  all  would  not  do.  The  secession  sentiment  was  too  strong  for  even 
Houston  to  combat.  A  popular  vote  was  taken,  and  the  State  voted  out  of  the 
Union.  The  .State  officials  were  rcupiired  to  take  an  oath  of  allegiance  to  the 
Confetlerate  government.  This  Houston  perempt(jrily  refused  to  do,  and  was 
accordingly  deposed,  being  succeeded  by  the  lieuttMiant-govcrnor.  He  rtitired 
to  his  prairie  home,  saying,  with  pathetic  dignity,  "  It  is  perhaps  meet  that  my 
career  should  close  thus.  I  have  seen  the  statesmen  ami  patriots  of  my  youth 
gathered  to  their  fathers,  and  the  government  which  they  had  reared  rent  in 
twain,  and  none  like  them  are  now^  l(;ft  to  re-unite  it  again.  I  stand  almost  the 
last  of  a  race  who  learned  from  them  the  lessons  of  human  freedom.  ' 

On  the  26th  of  July,  1863,  three  weeks  after  the  fall  of  \'icksburg,  Houstork 
died.  "  During  the  forenoon."  writes  his  daughter,  "we  heard  his  voice  in  a 
tone  of  entreaty,  and  listening  to  the  feeble  sound,  we  caught  the  words, 
'Texas  !  Texas  ! '  .Soon  afterward,  my  mother  was  sitting  by  the  bedside  with 
his  hand  in  hers,  and  his  lips  moved  once  again  ;  '  Margaret ! '  he  said  ;  and  the 
voice  we  loved  was  silent  forever." 


TlIK    iiAITI.B   UN    THK   M.AINS. 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN, 

THE    PRESERVER    OF    THE    UxNION. 


BV  rkOI".   W.   \V.   lURDSALL.*:- 


N  our  gallery  of  famous  Americans  there  is  one  figure  which 
,->  stands  peculiarly  alone.     Before  the  halo  of  martj'rdcm 

had  made  his  memory  sacred,  even  before  his  divine 
insight  had  perceived  the  time  when  he  should  set  the 
bondman  free,  it  was  declared  that  there  was  for  Abraham 
Lincoln  "a  niche  in  the  temple  of  fame,  a  nich(i  near 
Washington."  Hut  our  feeling  for  Lincoln  is  very  different 
from  the  veneration  with  which  we  regard  the  leather  of 
his  country.  Washington  was  a  stately  figure,  too  digni- 
fied for  near  api)roach.  He  commanded  respect,  admira- 
tion, loyalty;  l)ut  our  feeling  for  Lincoln  includes  all  these, 
and  with  them  a  peculiar  affection  as  for  one  very  near  and 
dear.  It  is  not  only  that  he  is  nearer  to  us  in  point  of  time  ;  his  was  a  nature 
so  large,  an  experience  so  com])rt-'hensive,  that  the  minds  and  hearts  of  all  our 
people  find  in  his  a  chord  to  which  their  own  responds  ;  arul  within  the  breast 
of  every  .American  there  is  something  which  claims  Lincoln  as  his  own. 

The  fame  of  Lincoln  is  increasing  as  th<;  inner  history  of  th(i  great  struggle 
for  the  life  of  the  nation  becomes  known.  l'"or  almost  two  decatles  after  that 
struggle  had  settled  the  permanence  of  our  government,  our  vision  was  ob- 
scured by  the  near  view  of  the  ])ygmy  giants  who  "  strutted  thinr  brief  hour 
upon  the  stage  ;"  our  ears  were  filled  with  tlie  loud  claims  of  those  who  would 
magnify  their  own  little  part,  and,  knowing  the  facts  concerning  some  one  frac- 
tion of  the  contest,  assumed  from  that  knowledge  to  proclaim  the  principles 
which  should  have  governed  the  whole.  Time  is  dissipating  the  mist,  and  we 
are  coming  better  to  know  the  great  man  who  had  no  pride  of  opinion,  who  was 


*  Prof.  Birdsall.  who  is  principal  of  one  of  the  largest  and  best  known  private  schools  in  Phil* 
delphia,  has  for  years  been  a  student  of  Lincoln's  life. 

220 


230 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN. 


willing,'-  to  let  Seward  or  Sumner  or  McClellan  imagine  that  he  himself  was  the 
guidiny,  dominating  spirit  of  the  government,  if  so  that  government  might  have 
the  service  of  which  each  was  capable  ;  we  see  more  clearly  the  real  greatness 
of  the  leader  who  was  too  slow  for  one  great  section  of  his  people,  and  too  fast 
for  another,  too  conservative  for  those,  too  radical  for  these  ;  who  refused  to 
make  the  contest  merely  a  war  for  the  negro,  yet  who  saw  the  end  from  the 
,  beginning,  and  so  led,  not  a  section  of  his  people,  but  the  whole  people,  away 
from  the  ligyptian  plagues  of  slavery  and  disunion,  united  in  sentiment  and 
feeling  and  capable  of  united  action,  to  the  borders  of  the  promised  land.  We 
are  coming  to  appreciate  that  the  "  Father  Abraham  "  who  in  that  Red  Sea 
passage  of  fraternal  strife  was  ready  to  listen  to  every  tale  of  sorrow,  and  who 
wanted  it  said  that  he  "always  plucked  a  thisde  and  [jlantetl  a  (lower  when  he 

thought  a  llower  would  grow," 
was  not  only  in  this  sense  the 
father  of  his  people,  but  that  he 
was  a  truly  great  statesman, 
who,  within  the  limits  of  human 
knowledge  and  human  strength, 
guided  the  affairs  of  state  with 
a  wisdom,  a  patience,  a  courage, 
which  belittle  all  praise,  and 
niake  him  seem  indeed  a  man 
divinely  raised  up,  not  only  to 
set  the  captive  free,  but  in  order 
that  "government  of  the  people, 
by  the  people,  and  for  the  peo- 
ple, shall  not  perish  from  the 
earth." 

Abraham  Lincoln  came  into 
the  world  in  1809,  in  a  miserable 
hovel  in  Kentucky.  His  family  were  of  that  peculiar  people,  the  shiftless,  im- 
provident, "poor  whites"  of  the  South.  The  father,  Thomas  Lincoln,  was  a 
typical  specimen  of  his  class, — lazy,  trilling,  spending  his  life  in  the  search  of  some 
place  in  Kentucky,  Indiana,  or  Illinois,  where  the  rich  soil  would  kindly  yield  its 
fruits  without  the  painful  price  of  labor.  Some  three  generations  back,  he  traced 
his  ancestry  to  a  Quaker  origin  in  Pennsylvania  ;  but  the  thrift  of  that  peaceful 
people  was  not  entailed  in  the  family,  and  if  the  energy  and  ability  of  the  Vir- 
ginian granilfathcr  who  came  with  Hoone  into  Kentucky  was  transmitted  to  the 
future  President,  certainly  his  father  had  it  not.  The  mother's  ancestry  is  un- 
known ;  by  courtesy  she  took  her  mother's  name  of  Hanks.  In  youth  she  was 
both  bright  and  handsome,  and  possessed  of  considerable  intellectual  force. 


LINCOLN   S    HOYIfOOU    HOME    IN    KLNTLCKY. 


BOy[{i\W  DAYS.  231 

She  taught  her  husband  to  read,  and  it  is  fair  to  iniai,nne  that  lia^l  \\vx  lot  been 
less  sordid,  her  lite  not  Lii'oinul  down  l)y  labor  and  scjualor  and  the  vice  about 
her,  she  would  have  been  titted  to  adorn  a  higher  sphere  of  life.  Her  son, 
though  she  died  when  he  was  in  his  tenth  year,  and  though  another  woman 
filled  her  place  and  deserved  the  love  and  devotion  with  which  he  repaid  her 
goodness,  cherished  the  memory  of  his  "angel  mother,"  testifying  that  to  her 
he  owed  '"all  that  he  was  ov  hcjpetl  to  be." 

The  story  of  Lincoln's  boyhood  belongs  to  a  stage  of  civilization  which  our 
people  have  almost  forgotten,  or  which  they  ne\er  kncnv.  The  removal  to 
.Spencer  County,  hidiana  ;  the  "half-faced  camp"  in  which  the  family  lived  ;  the 
pride  with  which,  a  year  later,  they  moved  to  a  log  cabin  with  tlirt  tloor,  and 
without  doors  or  windows  in  the  openings  made  for  them  ;  the  tk;alh  of  thi; 
mother  ;  the  boy's  tirst  letter,  begging  a  Kentuckv  preacher  to  come  and  preach 
a  sermon  over  the  grave  in  the  wilderness  ;  the  loneliness,  suffering,  and  tlepri- 
vation  that  followed,  complete  a  chaptt-r  whose  pathos  must  touch  all  h(;arts. 
Relief  came  on  the  marriage  of  Thomas  Lincoln  to  a  thrifty  Kentucky  widow, 
whose  advent  necessitatetl  a  lloor  and  doors  and  windows,  wIkj  actually  brought 
a  stocl:  of  spare  clothing  and  a  clothes-press  inv  its  preservation,  at  which  the 
boy,  as  \\v.  aftc;rward  saiil,  "  began  to  feel  like;  a  human  l)eing."  This  was  typical 
frontier  life.  The  hardship,  the  toil,  the  deprivation,  killed  the  mothers  ;  myste- 
rious pesiilence  found,  in  the  exposure  and  the  filth,  opportunity  to  sweep  away 
whole  tamilies  ;  vice  abounded  ;  ignorance  and  vulgarity  were  e\erywhere  ;  l)ut, 
somehow,  out  of  their  midst  came  sometimes  a  strong  character  and  a  great 
man.  From  this  soil  grew  Lincoln.  .Schools  were  few,  irregular,  and  poor,  in 
the  backwoods  ;  but  the  young  Lincoln  took  advantage  of  every  such  opportu- 
nity, and  we  find  him  at  seventeen  walking  over  four  miles  for  the  purpose. 
Reading,  writing,  and  elementary  arithmetic,  with  some  irregular  e.xercises  in 
composition  antl  declaiming,  formetl  the  whole  of  the  course  of  study,  excerpt  that 
his  last  teacher,  one  Crawford,  astonished  the  natives  by  undertaking  to  teach 
iiiaiiiicrs.  He  would  require  one  pui)il  to  go  outside  and  enter  tht"  room  as  a 
lady  or  gentleman  woukl  enter  a  parlor.  Anoth(M-,  acting  the  part  of  host, 
would  receive  the  incomer,  anil  politely  introduce  him  to  the  company.  When, 
in  after  years,  the  Presitlent's  arm  was  wearietl  by  the  vigorous  greetings  of 
the  thousands  who  filed  through  the  stately  East  Room  of  \.\\v.  White  House,  if 
he  ever  thought  of  those  early  mock  receptions,  the  contrast  must  have  aft'orded 
him  rich  amusement. 

At  seventeen,  Lincoln  hatl  grown  to  his  full  height ;  he  weighed  one  hun- 
dred and  sixty  |)ounds,  anil  was  wiry,  strong,  aiul  vigorous.  He  wore  low  shoes 
or  moccasins.  1  lis  trousers  were  of  buckskin,  and  usually  bagged  unnecessarily 
in  one  region,  while,  by  reason  of  their  brevity,  they  left  several  inches  of  shin 
bone   exposed.      A   linsey-woolsey  shirt  and   coon-skin   cap,   the  tail   hanging 


2  "^  2 


A I  IRA  1 1  AM  L INCOLN. 


down  his  back,  conijjlctecl  this  l)ack\\f)()ils  outfit.  It  is  doubtful  whethc.-r  he;  ever 
owned  an  arithnictic  ;  liut  kavcs  exist,  taken  from  a  book  made  and  bound  by 
him,  in  which  he  copied  problems  illustrating-  tlu;  various  [)rinciples  of  arith- 
metic. ( )ne  pay^e  is  devoted  to  subtraction  of  Lons^  Measure,  Land  Measure, 
and  Dry  Measure,  the  hi,'adin_L;s  beiiiL;"  written  in  a  bold  hand,  antl  each  subiect 
illustrated,  by  two  or  three  problems.  Al)out  the  edtji-es  are  some  extra  llour- 
ishes  aiul  ciphering-,  and  at  th(j  bottom  the  touching  lines  ; — 

"  Aliraham  l.iiicdln 
liis  liaiul  and  jicn 
hf  will  be  good  but 
god  knows  When." 

His  ])enmanshii)  came  to  be  regular  in  form,  and  better  than  that  of  any 
of  his  males  ;  \\\v.  samples  which  we  see  of  his  handwriting  as  a  man  are  far 
above  the  average,  lie  kept  a  copybook,  in  which  he  eiitered  everything  that 
pleased  his  fanc\-.  When  i)aper  failed,  he  wrote  his  selections  with  chalk  or 
charcoal  upon  a  jjlank  or  a  shingle,  lie  wrote  the  first  drafts  of  c()m|)Ositions 
u])on  a  smooth  woocKmi  sh(ivel.  which  he  [jlaned  off"  for  each  new  effort,  lie 
devoured  such  books  as  he  could  borrow,  anil  the  IJible  and  /L^sop's  babies 
were  for  a  loiig  time  the'  only  ones  hi;  owned.  lieside  these,  "  Robinson  Cru- 
soe," ISunyan's  "Pilgrim's  Progress,"  a  llistory  of  the  I'nited  States,  antl 
W  eems'  "  Lite  of  Washington,"  formed  the  bulk  of  his  early  reading.  A  copy  of 
the  .Statutes  of  Indiana  was  borrowed  from  the  constable,  and  studied  with  a  care 
which  j)ossibly  indicated  his  iuture  cari;er  as  a  lawyer.  1  lis  passion  for  reading 
was  such  as  to  causi;  remark  among  his  n(;ighbors,  who  wondered  to  see  the 
great  awkward  boy,  alter  a  day  ot  labor,  crouch  in  a  corner  of  the  log  cabin,  or 
spread  his  ungainly  body  uiider  a  tree  outside,  and  bury  himself  in  a  book,  while 
he  devoured  the  corn  l)read  which  formed  his  supijer.  1  le  delighted  in  "  speechi- 
fying." as  he  called  it.  and  upon  the  slightest  encouragement  would  mount  a 
stump  and  practice  upon  his  fellow-laborers.  1  le  helped  to  support  thi;  family 
by  working  in  his  lather's  clearing,  or  by  hiring  to  neighbors  to  plow,  ilig  ditches, 
chop  wood,  or  split  rails,  and  for  a  time  was  employed  as  clerk  in  the  cross-roads 
store.  A  journey  to  Xew  (  )rleans  as  deck-hand  on  a  llat-boat,  widened  his 
experience  of  mankiiul,  and  ga\e  him  his  first  glimpse  of  slavery. 

I'^arly  in  1S30,  he  went,  with  the  family,  a  fifteen  tlays"  journey  to  Illinois, 
where,  in  Macon  County,  live  niili;s  from  1  )ecatur,  a  new  si;ttlement  was  made. 
( )n  a  blull  overlooking  the  .Saiigamon  River  another  log  cabin  was  l)uilt  ;  land 
was  fenced  with  the  historic  rails,  some  of  which,  thirty  years  later,  were  to  play 
a  prominent  part  in  tlu;  presidential  campaign  ;  and  Lincoln,  l)eing  now  of  age, 
left  his  father's  family  in  these  new  quarters,  to  earn  his  living  for  himself  The 
tenderness  of  heart  which  characterized  him  through  life  was  well  illustrated  by 
his  turning  back,  while  on  the  journey  to  Illinois,  and  wading  an  icy  river  to 


KliMOVAI.   TO  ILIJNOIS. 


'■li 


rescue  a  worthless  pet  do^;'  which  had  falU.-n  lichind,  and  could  not  ^ct  across, 
and  which  "Abe"  could  not  bear  to  leave  whiinperini^  and  whininL;'  on  the  oppo- 
s'te  shore.  This  same  disposition  had  U-d  him  at  all  times  to  protc;st  aL;'ainst  the 
cruelty  to  animals  practiced  l)y  his  mates,  and  is  onl\-  one  ot  the  traits  which 
marked  him  as  of  a  ditferent  mouUi. 

Another  journey  to  New  Orleans  was  his  first  emploj-ment  after  leaving; 
home.  Here  ht;  witnessed  a  slave  auction.  '\\\v.  scene  impressed  itself  upf)n 
his  heart  and  memory,  anil  he  is  said  to  have  declared  to  his  cousin  and  com- 
panion, "If  I  e\er  ^(1  a  chanct'  to  hit  that  institution,  /  7/  /lit  it  hardy 

For  several   years  he  lived   at   New  .Salem,  Illinois,  serving  as  steamboat 


llclMI'.    Ill"    l.lNCdl.N    AT    cr.M'KYVll.I.r.,    INHIANA. 


pilot,  and  as  clerk  in  a  store  and  mill.  .\t  the  time  of  the  "  lilack  Hawk  War," 
beinL,''  out  of  employment,  he  volunteered  for  servici;,  antl  was  elected  cap. tain. 
Returnint^  at  the  close  of  the  expcxlition,  he  bout^ht  an  interest  in  a  store,  for 
which  he  went  in  debt,  and,  presently  selling-  it  on  credit  and  his  debtor  abscond- 
ins/,  he  found  himself  burdened  with  claims  which  it  took  man\'  vears  to  dis- 
change. 

He  now  be^an  in  earnest  to  study  law,  walking-  to  .Springfield  to  borrow 
books  and  return  them  ;  anil,  as  a  means  of  living  in  the  meantime,  he  eiitert'd 
the  employ  of  the  county  surveyor  and  laboriously  studied  the  ])rincipl<-'s  of  land 
measurement.     Presently  he  began  to  [)ractice  law  a  little,  representing  friends 


14 


^34 


ABRAHAM  fJA'COLX. 


before  a  justice  of  tin;  peace,  and,  in  i<S;4,  he  was  elected  to  the  Leoishiture, 
and  served  his  county  as  a  r(?presentati\ c  tor  tour  consecutive  terms.  Some 
eU,'ments  of  his  popuhirity  wen;  liis  acknowlediL^c^d  honi'sty  and  fairness,  his 
M'onderful  j^ilt  as  a  story-telle.".  his  [irowcss  as  a  wri;stler,  and,  when  actual 
necessity  arose,  as  a  fighter,  and  his  reputation  for  knowled^;.  This  latter  had 
been  acquired  by  his  habit  of  studying  to  the  bottom  whatever  subjc^ct  lie  had 
in  hantl,  and,  although  his  rany^e  of  information  was  not  wide,  when  he  under- 
took the  discussion  of  any  tt)pic  he  soon  diMUonstrated  that  \\v.  thoroughly 
understootl  it. 

Mis  service  in  the  Legislature  was  not  remarkable.     The  country  in  which 


(ii'i.MNr,  ni     nn;   iiii\(ji^   ami  Miriiinw  (\n\i.. 


he  lived  was  just  then  wild  upon  the  importance  of  ()iiblic  improvements,  par- 
ticularly in  the  form  of  iiitcrior  watt^rways,  and  it  is  not  surprising  that  Lincoln 
should  declare  an  ambition  to  become  "  the  l)e  Witt  Clinton  of  Illinois  ;"  but 
the  net  result  of  the  enter|)rise  was  a  gigantic  .State  debt.  He  was  popular  in 
the  Legislature,  antl  was  twice  the  nominee  of  his  party  for  .Speaker,  a  nominal 
honor  only,  as  the  .State  was  at  that  time  Democratic.  His  most  notable  act 
during  this  time  was  his  joining  with  a  single  colleague,  in  a  written  protest 
against  the  passage  of  pro-slavery  resolutions.  This  protest  appears  on  the 
records,  and  bases  the  opposition  of  the  two  signers  upon  their  belief  "that  the 


.]  riiCrUAR  LAU'YEK.  235 

institution  of  slavery  is  founded  on  both  injustice  and  l^ad  policy,"  a  declaration 
of  faith  which  re([uired  some  moral  courage  in  1S37,  antl  in  a  community  largely 
of  Southern  origin.  One  other  transaction  which  deserves  mention  was  the 
carrying  through  the  Legislature  of  a  bill  removing  the  capital  from  V'andalia 
to  Springfield.  This  was  accomplish(;(l  after  much  political  "wire-working,"  in 
which  Lincoln  was  the  leader,  the  adverser  claims  of  a  number  of  other  towns 
being  strenuously  urged  by  their  representatives. 

In  the  meantime  Lincoln  had  been  admitted  to  th(!  bar,  and,  in  1837, 
removed  to  Springfield,  where  he  had  formed  a  partnership  with  an  attorney  of 
established  n^putation.  He  became  a  successful  lawyer,  not  so  much  by  his 
knowledge  of  the  law,  for  this  was  never  great,  as  by  his  ability  as  an  advocate, 
and  by  reason  of  his  sterling  integrity.  He  would  not  be  a  party  to  misrepre- 
sentation, and,  after  endeavoring  to  dissuade  the  parties  from  litigation,  refused 
to  take  cases  which  involved  such  action.  Me  even  was  known  to  abandon  a 
case  which  brought  him  une.xpectedly  into  this  attitude.  In  his  first  case  before 
the  United  .States  Circuit  Court  he  said  that  he  had  not  \n\v.\\  able  to  iind  any 
authorities  supporting  his  side  of  the  case,  but  had  found  several  favoring  the 
opposite,  which  he  proceeded  to  quote.  The  very  appearance  of  such  an 
attorney  in  any  case  must  have  gone  far  to  win  the  jury ;  and,  when  tleeply 
stirred,  the  power  of  his  oratory,  and  the  invincible  logic  of  his  argument,  made 
him  a  most  formidable  advocate.  "  Yes,"  he  was  overheard  to  say  to  a  would-be 
client,  "we  can  doubtless  gain  your  case  for  you  ;  we  can  set  a  whole  neighbor- 
hood at  loggerheads  ;  we  can  distress  a  widowed  mother  and  her  si.x  fatherless 
children,  and  thereby  get  for  you  six  hundred  dollars  to  which  you  seem  to  have 
a  legal  claim,  but  which  rightfully  belongs,  it  appears  to  me,  as  much  to  the 
woman  and  her  children  as  it  does  to  you.  You  must  remember  that  some 
things  legally  right  are  not  morally  right.  We  shall  not  take  your  case,  but 
will  give  you  a  little  advice  for  which  we  will  charge  you  nothing.  You  seem 
to  be  a  sprightly,  energetic  man  ;  we  would  advise  you  to  try  your  hand  at 
making  six  hundred  dollars  in  some  other  way." 

HIS  ri;cuLi.\R  iionestv. 

His  absolute  honesty  and  care  for  that  which  was  not  his  own  is  illustrated 
by  his  conduct  as  a  postmaster.  He  had  served  in  that  capacity  at  New  Salem, 
and  when  that  office  was  discontinued,  found  himself  indebted  to  the  govern- 
iient  to  the  amount  of  sixteen  or  eighteen  dollars.  For  some  reason  this  money 
was  not  demanded  for  several  years,  and  in  the  meantime  he  was  in  debt,  and 
very  poor,  frequently  being  compelled  to  borrow  money  to  supply  his  pressing 
needs  ;  but  an  agent  of  the  department  calling  one  day  and  presenting  the 
account,  he  produced  an  old  blue  sock,  from  which  he  poured  the  identical  silver 
and  copper  coins  with  which  his  New  Salem  neighbors  had  purchased  stamps, 
and  to  the  exact  amount  required. 


zyj  ABRAHAM  LIXCOLX. 

Early  in  life  Lincoln  became  attached  to  an  attractive  and  estimable  j^irl, 
and  they  were  to  have  been  married  when  his  law  studies  were  completed.  Her 
sudden  death  was  such  a  shock  to  him,  and  threw  him  into  such  a  condition  of 
melancholy,  that  it  was  feared  by  his  friends  that  his  reason  would  be  perma- 
nently dethroned.  Some  years  later  he  married  Miss  Mary  Todd,  a  youn^ 
lady  of  Kentucky  parcntay^e  and  of  L,^ood  family.  She  was  possessed  of  some 
culture  and  a  vi<^orous  and  sprii,ditly  mintl.  Mer  temper,  however,  was  erratic, 
and  those  who  kn(;w  the  family  life  intimately  represent  it  as  full  of  trials. 
Some  of  the  incidents  reported  seem  intensely  amusincf  at  this  distance  of  time, 
but  must  have  been  painful  in  the  extreme  as  actual  occurrences.  Such  trials 
continued  throuL,diout  Mr.  Lincohi's  life,  and  were  the  occasion  of  continual 
f>etty  annoyance,  and  frequent  embarrassment  in  the  discharge  of  his  public 
duties. 

He  continued  to  "  ride  the  circuit,"  being  a  great  portion  of  the  time  absent 
from  home  in  attendance  at  court,  with  the  exception  of  his  single  term  in  Con- 
gress, until  his  election  to  the  presidency.  He  was  acquiring  a  very  great  inlUi- 
ence  in  his  district  and  in  the  State,  was  one  of  the  leading:  manat^ers  of  the 
Whig  party,  and  was  usually  a  candidate  for  presidential  elector.  When  in 
1S46,  according  to  the  peculiar  system  of  rotation  adopted  by  the  Illinois  politi- 
cians, it  was  his  turn  to  go  to  Congress,  he  did  not  distinguish  himself  though 
he  seems  to  have  made  a  favorable  impression  upon  the  party  leaders,  and  the 
acquaintance  thus  formed  was  of  great  use  to  him  later. 

Going  back  to  Illinois,  he  again  settled  to  the  practice  of  law.  It  was  in 
1S53  that  he  received  his  largest  fee.  It  was  a  case  in  which  he  defended  the 
Illinois  Central  Railroad  in  a  suit  brought  to  collect  taxes  alleged  to  be  due,  and 
in  which  he  was  successful.  He  presented  a  bill  for  two  thousand  dollars,  which 
the  company  refused  to  allow,  when,  after  consultation  with  other  lawyers,  he 
brought  suit  for  five  thousand,  which  he  received. 

It  was  not  until  the  repeal  of  the  Missouri  Compromise,  in  1S54,  that  Lincoln 
was  really  aroused.  He  had  always  opposed  the  extension  of  slavery,  holding 
opinions  well  indicated  by  his  protest  in  the  Legislature,  already  mentioned,  and 
by  the  acute  remark  that  it  was  "  singular  that  the  courts  would  hold  that  a  man 
never  lost  his  right  to  his  property  that  had  been  stolen  from  him,  but  that  he 
instantly  lost  his  right  to  himself  if  he  was  stolen."  The  great  question  now 
absorbed  his  interest.  He  was  constandy  more  bold  in  his  position,  and 
more  powerful  in  his  denunciation  of  the  encroachments  of  the  slave  power. 
He  became,  therefore,  the  natural  champion  of  his  party  in  the  campaigns  in 
which  .Senator  Douglas  undertook  to  defend  before  the  people  of  his  State  his 
advocacy  of  "  Scpiatter  .Sovereignty,"  or  the  right  of  the  people  of  each  Terri- 
ton.'  to  decide  whether  it  should  be  admitted  as  a  slave  or  a  free  State,  and  of 
the  Kansas-Nebraska  bill,  by  which  the  "  Missouri  Compromise"  was  repealed. 


Tllli  LINCOLN-DOUGLAS  DEBATES.  237 

(6"ivHi;NKV  Ci.AV.)  The  first  great  battle  between  these  two  giants  of  debate 
took  place  at  the  State  l*"air  at  Springfield,  in  October  of  1S54.  Douglas  made, 
on  Tuesday,  a  great  speech  to  an  unprecedented  concourse  of  people,  and  was 
the  lion  of  the  hour.  The  next  day  Lincoln  replied,  and  his  effort  was  such  as  to 
surprise  botii  his  friends  and  his  o|)|)onents.  It  was  probably  the  first  occasion 
on  which  he  reached  his  full  power.  In  the  words  of  a  friendly  eilitor  :  "The 
Nebraska  bill  was  shivereil,  anel  like  a  tree  of  the  forest  was  torn  and  rent  asunder 
by  the  hot  bolts  of  truth.  ...  At  the  conclusion  of  this  speech  every  man  ap.d 
child  felt  that  it  was  unanswerable." 

It  was  arranged  that  Lincoln  was  to  follow  Douglas  ami  reply  to  his  speeches, 
and  the  two  met  in  joint  debate  at  Peoria,  after  which  Douglas  proposed  that 
they  should  b(Hh  abaiitlon  the  debate,  agreeing  to  cancel  his  api)oiiitments  and 
make  no  more  si)eeches  during  that  campaign,  if  Lincoln  woulil  do  the  same. 
Lincoln  somewhat  weakly  agreed  to  this  proposition,  and  the  next  day,  whc;n 
Douglas  pleaded  hoarseness  as  an  excuse,  he  gallantly  refused  to  take  advan- 
tage of  "Judge  Douglas's  indisposition."  He  faithfully  kept  to  the  agreement, 
though  Douglas  allowed  himself  on  one  occasion,  to  be  tempted  into  violating  it. 

Till-;    DKHATKS    WITH    I)()UGL.\S. 

But  it  was  the  campaign  of  1S5S  which  made  Lincoln  famous,  which  fully 
demonstrated  his  powers,  and  which  prepared  him  for  the  presidency.  Douglas 
was  immensely  popular.  Mis  advocacy  of  territorial  expansion  appealed  to  the 
patriotism  of  the  young  anil  artlent ;  his  doctrine  of  "  Popular  Sovereignty  " 
was  well  calculated  to  mislead  the  shallow  thinker  ;  and  his  j)ower  in  debater  had 
given  him  the  name  of  "  the  Little  Giant."  True,  the  "  Dred  Scott  decision  "  had 
made  it  difficult  to  hold  his  Northern  constituency  to  the  toleration  of  any  atti- 
tude which  could  be  construed  as  favoring  the  South, ••=  but  his  opposition  to  the 
Lecompton  pro-slavery  constitution,  on  the  ground  that  it  had  nt^ver  been  fairly 
voted  upon  by  the  people  of  Kansas,  not  only  maintained  the  loyalty  of  his  par- 

*  Tlie  "  Dred  Scott  decision"  was  delivered  by  Chief  Justice  Taney,  of  the  United  States 
Supreme  Court,  on  March  6,  1S57,  immediately  after  the  inauguration  of  President  Buchanan. 
Dred  Scott  was  a  slave  who  had  been  taken  by  his  master  from  Missouri  to  Illin(jis  and  Wisconsin, 
.  where  slavery  was  illegal,  and  had  lived  there  for  some  years.  He  was  then  taken  back  to  Missouri, 
and  having  been  whipped,  he  brought  suit  against  his  master  for  a.ssault,  jjleading  that  he  was  made 
free  by  being  taken  into  a  free  State,  where  slavery  wis  illegal.  The  Missouri  Circuit  Court  de- 
cided in  his  favor  ;  but  the  case  was  appealed  to  the  United  States  Supreme  Court,  which  decided 
that  the  Missouri  Compromise,  limiting  the  area  of  slavery,  was  imconstitutional,  and  that  therefore 
slaveholders  could  enter  any  free  State  with  slaves  and  hold  them  there  as  property  ;  that  negroes,  be- 
ing incapable  of  becoming  citizens,  lunl  no  standing  in  court,  and  could  not  maintain  a  suit  for  any 
purpose.  As  this  decision  overthrew  all  barriers  against  the  e.xtension  of  slavery,  even  to  the  free 
States,  and  declared  that  the  negro  had  no  rights  which  the  courts  would  i)rotect,  it  caused  great 
excitement  in  the  North,  and  aroused  intense  hostility  to  the  aggressive  demands  of  the  slave  power. 


238  Ar.RAHAM  LfXCOL.V. 

tisans,  but  led  I  lonicc  Gnick-y  and  some  other  leaders  of  the  new  Republican 
party  to  favor  his  re-cilection  to  the  Senate,  hopinL,^  to  separate  him  from  the  pro- 
slavery  interest,  and  thus  introduce  a  split  in  the  Democratic  party.  lUit  Lin- 
coln and  th()S(!  who  ailvised  with  him  were  firmly  of  opinion  that  the  anti-slavery 
cause  was  safe  only  in  the  hands  of  those  who  had  consistently  been  its  advo- 
catt;s,  and  took  hij^di  ami  stronjj;'  jj^round  in  favor  of  an  a;^fL,M-essive  cami)ai;j[n, 
Lincoln  had  come  to  be  a  really  t^^reat  political  mana^^er.  He  cared  little  for 
temporary  success,  if  only  he  could  foster  the  ji-rowth  of  a  riL,dit  public  opinion, 
anil  thus  make  possible  a  future  victory  which  would  be  permanent.  .So,  in  this 
campaign,  when  he  proposeil  to  press  upon  his  ojjponent  the  question  whether 
there  were  lawful  means  by  which  slavery  could  be  excluded  from  a  'I\;rrit()ry 
before  its  admission  as  a  state,  his  friends  suijij^ested  that  l)out(las  woukl  reply 
that  slavery  could  not  e.xist  unless  it  was  desired  by  the  people,  and  unless  pro- 
tected by  territorial  le_<,''islation.  and  that  this  answer  would  be  sufficiently  satis- 
factory to  insure  his  re-election.  But  Lincoln  rt'plied,  "  I  am  after  larj^er  j^ame. 
If  Doui/las  so  answiM's,  he  can  never  be  President,  and  the  battle  of  i860  is 
worth  a  huntlreil  of  this."  Both  predictions  were  verified.  The  people;  of  the 
South  mii;ht  have  for^^dven  l)ouL;las  his  opposition  to  the  Lecompton  Constitution, 
but  they  could  not  forgive-  the  promulgation  of  a  doctriiu;  which,  in  spite  of  the 
1  )r(?il  .Scott  decision,  would  keci)  slaverv  out  of  a  Territorv  ;  and  so,  althousjh 
I)ouL;las  was  (.'lected  and  Lincoln  defeated,  the  Democracy  was  divided,  and  it 
was  impossible  for  Douglas  to  command  .Southern  voti's  for  the  PresidtMicy. 

Ihe  campaign  had  been  openeil  by  a  spei-ch  of  Lincoln  which  startled  the 
country  by  its  boldness  and  its  power.  It  was  delivered  at  the  Re|)ublican  con- 
vention which  nominated  him  for  .Senator,  and  had  been  prexiously  submittetl  to 
his  confidential  advisers.  'Ihey  strenuously  opposed  the  introduction  of  its 
openinL^  sentences.  He  was  warned  that  they  would  be  fatal  to  his  election, 
and,  in  the  existing'  stat(?  of  pul)lic  feeling-,  might  permanently  destroy  his  politi- 
cal prospects.  Lincoln  could  not  be  moved.  "It  is  tnic\"  said  he,  "and  1  i^'ill 
deliver  it  as  written.  I  would  ratlujr  be  defeated  with  these  expressions  in 
my  speech  held  up  ami  discussed  before  the  people  than  be  victorious  without 
them."  The  paragraph  gave  to  the;  country  a  statement  of  the  problem  as  terse 
and  vigorous  and  even  more  complete  than  .Seward's  "  irreprijssible  conllict," 
and  as  startling  as  Sumner's  proposition  that  "freedom  was  national,  slavery 
sectional."  "  A  house  divided  against  itself,"  said  Lincoln,  "  cannot  stand.  I 
believe  this  government  cannot  endure  permanently  half  slave  and  half  free.  I 
do  not  expect  the  Union  to  be  dissolved  ;  I  do  not  expect  the  house  to  fall  ;  but 
I  expect  it  will  cease  to  be  divided.  It  will  become  all  one  thing  or  all  the  other. 
Flither  the  opponents  of  slavery  will  arrest  the  farther  spread  of  it,  and  place  it 
where  the  public  mind'shall  rest  in  the  belief  that  it  is  in  the  course  of  ultimate 
extinction,  or  its  advocates  will  push  it  forward  till  it  shall  become  alike  lawful 


INS  rir.iv  OF  THE  si.avi-ry  ornsnoN.  J3<> 

in  all  the  Stalt;s, — old  as  well  as  new,  Xorih  as  well  as  Soiitli."  ll  scciiis  small 
wonder  ihai  I  )()ii>j;las  sliouKl  inlfrpn-f.  this  as  a  threat  of  se-ctional  strife,  should 
magnify  it  and  distort  it,  and  that  it  shoiiKl  thus  W-  \\\v  means  of  drixini;  m.my 
timid  voters  to  the  support  ot  tin-  more  jjolitie  candidate. 

Never  hail  tht;  issues  of  a  political  cainpais^n  seemi'(l  more  momentous  ; 
never  was  one  more  ably  eontested.  The  triumph  ot"  the  doctrine  ol  "popular 
sovereijLi^nty."  in  th(,'  Kansas-Xebraska  bill,  had  o|)ened  tln'  Territoriits  to  slavery, 
whilt^  it  professed  to  leave  the  ([uestion  to  he  di(ide<l  by  the  |)eoplc.  '1  o  the 
question  whether  the  people  of  a  Territory  could  exclude  slavery  l)ou<,jlas  had 
answered,  "  Tnat  is  a  question  for  the-  courts  to  decide,"  but  the  1  )red  .Scott 
decision,  prac.ically  holdiniL,^  that  the  b'etU:ral  Constitution  (guaranteed  the  rij^ht 
to  hold  slaves  in  the  Territories,  seemed  to  make  th<;  pro-slavery  cause  tri- 
umphant. Ihe  course  of  1  )ouL;Ias  reoardiiiL^  the  Lecompton  Constitution, 
how(n(T,  had  made  it  possible  for  his  friends  to  describe  him  as  "  the  true 
champion  of  frecnlom,"  while  Lincoln  c<jntinually  t.'.xposed,  with  merciless  force, 
the  illoLfical  position  of  his  adversary,  and  his  complete  lack  of  political 
morality.  •• 

Douijlas  claimed  that  the  doctrine  of  popular  soNcreiL^iity  "originated  when' 
God  made  man  anil  placed  u^ood  and  evil  bidore  him,  allowing  him  to  choose 
upon  his  own  responsibility."  Hut  Lincoln  ileclared  with  threat  solemnity:  "  Xo  ; 
(iod  did  not  place;  i^food  and  evil  before;  man,  tellini^-  him  to  make  his  choice. 
On  thi;  contrary,  Ciod  did  tell  him  then;  was  one  tree  of  the  fruit  of  which  Ik; 
should  not  eat,  ui)on  pain  of  death."  llu;  cpiestion  was  to  him  one;  of  rit^ht, 
a  hi.iL,di  ([uestion  of  morality,  and  only  upon  such  a  ([uestion  could  he  e\i'r  be 
fidlv  roused.  "  .Slavery  is  wrorii^^/'  was  the  keynote  of  his  speeclies.  luit  he 
did  not  take  the  position  of  the  abolitionists.  He  e\i'n  admitted  that  the  .South 
was  entitled,  under  the  Constitution,  to  a  national  fugitive  slave  law,  thoui^h 
his  soul  revolted  at  the  law  which  was  then  in  force,  llis  [)osition,  as  already 
cited,  was  that  of  the  kepid)lican  party,  lie  would  limit  the  extension  of 
slavery,  and  place  it  in  such  a  position  as  would  insure  its  ultimate  extinction.  It 
was  a  moderate  course,  viewed  from  this  distance  of  time,  but  in  the  face  of  a 
ilominant,  arrogant,  irascible  pro-slavery  sc-ntiment  it  seemed  railica!  in  the 
extreme,  calculated,  indeed,  to  fultiU  a  threat  he  had  made  to  the  (iovernor  of 
the  State.  He  had  been  attempting;-  to  secure  the  release  of  a  younj^'  iK;L,n-o 
from  SprinLjfield  who  was  wroni^dully  detained  in  Xi;w  ( )rleans,  and  who  was  in 
danger  of  beinq;  sold  for  prison  expenses.  Moxed  to  the  ilc;pths  of  his  being; 
by  the  refusal  of  the  official  to  interfere,  Lincoln  exclaimed  :  "  By  ( iod,  (io\  ernejr. 
Ml  make  the  ground  of  this  country  too  hot  for  tJic  foot  of  a  slave." 

Douglas  was  re-elected.  Lincoln  had  hardly  anticipated  a  ilifferent  result, 
anil  he  had  nothing  of  the  feeling  of  defeat.  ( )n  the  contrary,  he  felt  that  the- 
corner-stone  of  victory  had  been  laid.      He  had  said  of  his  opening  speech  :   "If 


""T^ 


a 


UMOOLM    AMU   HLi   SON    "  In^j. 


FAMIi  AV  /]   WIDER  FIELD.  34I 

I  hail  to  draw  a  piiii  across  my  record,  and  crasi,'  my  whole  Ufe  from  sij^du,  and 
I  had  oik;  poor  ^ilt:  or  choice  \v\i  as  to  what  I  should  sav<'  trom  the  wreck.  I 
shoiiUl  chcjose  tiiat  speech,  and  leave  it  to  the  woriil  unerased  ;"  and  now,  lit; 
wrote-:  "The  tii^lu  must  i^o  on.  Tlu'  cause  of  liberty  must  not  he  surrenilered 
at  the  cMul  of  one  or  evc;n  one  hundred  ilefeats.  Douglas  had  tile  ini^enuity  to 
be  support(;d  in  the  late  contest  both  as  the  best  means  to  break  ilown  and  tc 
uphold  tin;  slave  interest.  .Xo  ini^enuity  can  keep  these  antagonistic  I'ltMUents 
in  harmony  loni^'.  Another  e\plosi(jn  will  soon  come."  .\nd  l!ie  explosion  was 
only  two  years  in  ccMiiini;'.  Neither  was  he  in  doubt  alxjut  the  effect  of  his  own 
labors.  "I  Ix^lieve  I  have  made  s')me  marks."  said  he,  "which  will  tell  for  the 
cause  of  liberty  lon^-  after  I  am  i^one."  lie  had  bitUleii  his  countrymen  •'  Re- 
turn to  the  fountain  whose  waters  sprint;  close  by  the  blood  of  the  Revtjhition. 
Think  nothin;..;  of  me  ;  take  no  th()Ui;ht  for  the  political  fate  of  any  man  whom- 
soever, but  come  back  to  the  truths  that  are  in  tlie  I  )('claration  of  Indepen- 
dence;" and  defeat,  wiiich  he  foresaw  must  be  temporary,  was  as  nothin;^-  to  him. 
Hut  his  tj^reat  cor.test  iiad  made  him  famous.  It  is  often  said  that  Lincoln 
in  i.S6owas  practically  unknown  outsith;  of  Illinois.  15ut  this  cannot  be  main- 
tained. In  Illinois  his  name  was  a  household  worth  "  Comi'  to  our  place," 
wrote  a  jjolitical  manat^er  in  1S5J,  "people  place  more  confidence  in  you  than 
in  any  other  man.  Men  who  do  not  read  want  the  story  told  as  only  you  can  tell 
it.  (  )thers  may  make  tine  s[)eeches,  but  it  woukl  not  be,  '  Lincoln  said  so  in  his 
speech.'  "  And  n()w  his  name  was  on  the  lips  of  every  /nest  advocate  of 
freedom  the  country  over.  At  the  Hast  there  was  deep  and  widespread  interest 
in  him.  Ihe  people  who  lookttd  up  to  Sewartl  and  .Sumner  and  Wendell 
Phillips  as  the  exponents  of  the  j^ospel  of  freedom  rejoiced  at  hearing  of  this 
new  prophet,  albeit  he  came  from  the  wilderness. 

HIS    COOl'KR     IX.STITUTK    SPEECH. 

So,  when  in  1S60  Lincoln  appeared  by  invitation  to  deliver  an  address  at 
the  Cooper  Institute  in  New  York,  Horace  Greeley  declared  that  "  No  man  has 
been  welcomed  by  such  an  audience  of  the  intellect  and  mental  culture  of  our 
city  since  the  days  of  Clay  and  Webster."  No  audience  was  ever  more  sur- 
prised. The  scholarly  people  who  thronged  the  immense  audience-room  had  not 
really  believed  that  any  genuine  good  could  come  out  of  the  Nazareth  of  Illinois 
and  the  awkward,  uncouth  appearance  of  the  speaker  ditl  iKjt  reassure  them. 
They  expected  to  hear  a  ranting,  shallow  stump  speech,  which  might  be  adapted 
to  persuade  the  ignorant  people  of  a  prairie  State,  but  the  hearing  of  which 
would  rather  be  an  ordeal  to  their  cultured  ears.  Hut  the  effort  was  dignified, 
calm,  clear,  luminous.  If  it  was  not  the  s[)eech  of  a  scholar,  it  was  that  of  a 
man  full  of  his  great  subject,  and  with  a  scholar's  command  of  all  that  bore  upon 
it.     It  is  said  that  those  who  afterward   performed  the  work  of  publishing  the 


242  AliR.  I  HAM  I.  IXCi  ^LN. 

speech  as  a  caiii|)ai^n  (lociiinciit  weix;  three  weeks  in  verifying  the  statements 
antl  tindiiiL;  iIk'  historical  records  reterrt'd  to. 

He  had  taken  the;  I'^ast  by  storm.  I  ic;  was  invited  to  speak  in  many  places 
in  Xew  I'JiL^land,  and  every wher(;  mvX  with  the  most  tlattc'rint;-  reception,  which 
surprised  ahnost  as  much  as  it  deliLjhted  him.  It  astonisheil  him  to  hear  that 
the  Professor  of  Rh(l()ric  of  Vale  Collc:i_;e  took  notes  of  his  speech  anci  lectured 
upon  thc;m  to  his  class,  and  followed  him  to  Mcriilcn  the  nt^xt  evening  to  hear 
him  again  for  tht;  same  pur|)ose.  An  intelligent  lu;arer  described  as  remarkable 
"  the  clearness  of  your  statements,  the  unanswerable  st\le  of  your  n'asoning,  and 
esi)ecially  yt)ur  illustrations,  which  were  romance  and  pathos,  fun  antl  logic,  all 
welded  togiithiM'."  I'cn-hajjs  his  style  could  not  be  betti^r  describetl.  He  him- 
self said  that  it  used  to  anger  him,  when  a  chikl,  to  hear  statemcMits  which  he 
could  not  understand,  antl  he  was  thus  led  to  form  the  habit  of  turning  over  a 
thought  until  it  was  in  languagi;  any  boy  coukl  com[)rehend. 

Lincoln  had  in  1S56  been  somewhat  talked  of  by  his  Illinois  friends  for 
\'iced*rc;sident,  and  even  for  President  ;  but  he  had  felt  that  other  men,  of  witler 
reputation,  would  better  lead  the  party.  .\ow,  howcner,  he  thought  himself  a 
proper  candidate,  ami  freely  consulted  with  his  fric-nds  in  furtherance  of  his 
caiuass.  When  tin;  con\ention  met  in  Chicago,  the  canditlacy  of  Seward  was 
so  prominent,  ami  his  managers  had  such  a  rt:putation  for  political  finesse,  that 
it  was  with  a  surprise  amounting  to  disgust  that  they  saw  themsehcs  out-shouted 
and  outgeneraled  by  th(;ir  W'l^stern  competitors.  Lincoln  was  nominated  on 
the  thirel  ballot,  amid  such  cmthusiasm  as  had  never  been  e(;ualed. 

As  had  been  predicteil,  the  Hemocrats  hail  not  been  able  to  hold  together, 
the  pro-slavery  wing  refusing  to  endorse  the  nomination  of  1  )ouglas,  and  putting 
Breckinridge  in  the  field.  I'lu;  campaign  was  conducted  with  gn^at  enthusiasm 
on  the  |)art  of  the  Republicans,  all  the  candidates  for  the  nomination  uniting  in 
working  for  the  success  of  Lincoln  and  I  lamlin,  and  the  result  was  a  majority 
of  fifty-sev(Mi  in  the  electoral  colleges, 

krom  this  time,  the  life  of  .\braham  Lincoln  is  the  1  listory  of  tlu;  Reliellion. 
It  cannot  hv.  aiK'tpiately  written  here.  L\-erv  da\'  was  crowdetl  with  t.'vents 
which  seem  unim[)ortant  only  because;  overshadowed  by  others  whose  world-wide 
inlluenc(;  commaiuls  attention.  1  lardly  was  the  election  over  when  active  steps 
were  taken  in  the  South  looking  toward  disunion.  Hy  I'ebruary,  seven  .State; 
Legislatures  had  passed  ordinances  of  secession,  and  the  .Southern  Confederacy 
was  practically  organized.  Lew  upon  (;ither  side  expected  war,  but  the  air  was 
full  <if  trouble,  and  the  future  looked  very  dark. 

( )n  th(.'  I  I  th  of  I'ebruary,  Lincoln  took  leave  of  his  old  friends  and  neigh- 
bors in  a  little  speech  of  most  pathetic  beauty,  and  journeyetl  to  Washington  by 
way  of  all  the  principal  cities  of  the  North.  Hverywhen;  he  was  received  with 
acclamation,  and  at  every  stop  he  made  speeches  full  of  tact,  and  largely  de- 


OUTBREAK  OF  THE  WAR. 


243 


voted  to  an  att<.'inpt  to  quiet  tht;  i,n'iu:ral  apprchcMision  and  to  dtMnonstralc  to 
the  people  of  the  South  that  they  had  no  just  cause  of  coniplaiiU.  Tlic-rt;  was 
intense  excitement  throughout  tlie  country,  and  especially  in  W'ashinj^ton,  where 
threats  were  freely  matle  that  Lincoln  should  ncncr  Ix-  inau^uratetl.  The 
veteran  (General  Scott,  however,  who  was  in  command,  was  thoroughly  loyal,  and 
determinetl  to  prev(Mit  violence.  1  le  cpiietly  organized  a  small  but  etticieiil  force 
of  well-armed  men,  in  citizc^n's  dress,  who  jj^uarded  the  Capitol  and  strc;ets  until 
after  tht;  inaui^au'ation.  Threatened  violence  in  Baltimore  causetl  a  chauL^e  of 
Lincoln's  route  from  I  Lirrisburtr, 


'ft' 


'',;'';i^'i  ■■;:.. 

.                       ''    '      :( 

Ji^j^i^^Bt  -gjj^a. '' '               ',     ',.'                    ' 

<■ :  ..       ■     '         .■* 

R-f^-^""^^^^^    ''■■•"      '"    ' 

'    ^1 

^^^^^k. ' ' 

^S^^^^MmB^ :      .  ^ 

Bg^   --«."^^.;^>:a— ME'          ,''4;i''f'' 

<';;'ii,,i-                 '     "^1 

SBuJMMB^K^inBHr     '   '      ~  .'i^'-l^iti 

S?i  ■  .' 

m|3^P^fo^-'  ^^ffl 

Kp^flpw^''^ ' 

I^^H^^^^^B^^^^^^  ^^^^^^^^b^~.          1  .jmBSZhMBh 

HK'?'-*  ''^'             ■ ' 

(■^B^-^'' .  ^Sr   ^^^^^^^Kftt^-''   ^jhiBMh^H 

iPri.'* ''' ',  '•'>■■.  •; 

^HHM^^^^^Hmp^g^lj^^jnB 

mh| 

HHBhB 

^^HH^^^QH 

' ''i^i^^^^^^^^l 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^HH^B 

m 

by  which  he  arrived  in  W'ashins. 
ton    luiexijectedly,    and     the    re- 
mainini:;'    time    until     ^L'lrch   4th 
was  spent  in  preparing"  his  Inau- 
gural. 

When  Chief-Justice  Taney 
had  administered  the  oath  ot 
office,  the  new  President  deliv- 
ered the  Inauy;ural,  which,  while 
it  was  lari^rely  addressed  to  the 
Southern  peo[)le,  must  have  been 
really  intended  to  streUL^then  the 
hearts  of  the;  friends  of  the  Union. 
It  foreshadowed  fully  and  faith- 
fully the  course  of  his  administra- 
tion, and  left  no  slij^htest  excuse 
for  secession  or  rebellion.  lie 
pointed  out  in  the  kimlest  possi- 
ble manner  the  inevitable  results 
of  disunion,  and,  while  sacrihcinj^ 
no  principl(^  and  declarinsj;-  his 
pur[)ose  to  fulfill  his  oath  and  to 
preserve  the   I'nion,  the  tone  of 

the   address  has   been   likened  to  that  of  a   sorrowim,;-   father  to  his  wayward 
children. 

'niK  (;Ki:.\r  civii,  war. 

His  task  was  such  as  no  man  v.wx  laced  before.  The  tj^reat  republic,  the 
only  great  and  promising  experinnMit  in  self goxernnu'Ut  that  the  world  had 
ever  seen,  seemed  about  to  k^wk^,  after  all,  in  failure,  it  was  to  be  det(.'rmined 
whether  the  Constitution  contained  thi;  germs  of  its  own  destruction,  or  whether 
the  government  established  under  its  provisions  possessed  the  necessary 
strength  to  hold  itself  together. 


CIM  KAl.    WIMlll.l)    "-roir. 


244 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN. 


Mr,  Lincoln  called  to  his  cabinet  the  ablest  men  of  his  party,  two  of 
whom,  Seward  and  Chase,  had  been  his  competitors  for  the  nomination,  and 
the  new  administration  devoted  itself  to  the  work  of  savinL,''  the  Union.  Every 
means  was  tried  to  prevent  the  secession  of  the  border  States,  and  the  Presi- 
dent delayed  until  Fort  Sumter  was  fired  upon  before  he  bes^an  active  measures 
for  the  suppression  of  the  Rebellion  and  called  ior  seventy-five  thousand 
volunteers. 

Fhe  sj;-reat  question,  from  the  start,  was  the  treatment  of  the  nes^ro.  The 
advanced  anti-slaver)'  men  tlemanded  decisive  action,  antl  coukl  not  understand 
that  success  depended  absolutely  upon  the  administration  commandin<j;-  the 
support  of  the  whole  people.  And  so  Mr.  Lincoln  incurred  the  dis[)leasure 
and  lost  the  confidence  of  some  of  those  who  had  been  his  heartiest  sujjporters 
by  keeping-  the  negro  in  the  background  and  making  the  preservation  of  the 


I.IIMIY    I'KlMIN    IN    KlcllMoND. 


Union  the  great  end  for  which  he  strove.  "I  am  naturally  anti-slavery,"  said 
he  at  a  later  time.  "  If  slavery  is  not  wrong,  nothing  is  wrong.  I  cannot 
remember  the  time  when  I  did  not  so  think  and  feel.  And  yet  I  have  never 
understood  that  the  Presidency  conferred  upon  me  an  unrestricted  right  to  act 
upon  that  judgment  and  feeling.  It  was  in  the  oath  I  took  that  I  would,  to  the 
best  of  my  ability,  [)reserve,  protect,  and  defend  the  Constitution  of  the  United 
States.  .  .  .  This  oath  even  forbade  me  practically  to  indulge  my  private 
abstract  judgment  on  the  moral  question  of  slavery."  And,  although  he 
repeatedly  dixlaretl  that,  if  he  could  do  so,  he  would  preserve  the  Union  zui//i 
slavery,  he  continued,  "  I  could  not  feel  that,  to  the  best  of  my  ability,  I  had 
even  fried  to  preserve  the  Constitution,  if  to  save  slavery  or  any  minor  matter, 
I  should  permit  the  wreck  of  government,  country,  and  Constitution,  all 
together,"  and  so,  when  it  became  evident  that  the  salvation   of  the  Union 


HIS  POLICY  IN  THE  WAR.  245 

demanded  die  destruction  of  that  accursed  system,  the  President  was  ready  to 
strike  the  blow,  and  he  found  ahnost  the  whole  people  ready  to  support  him. 

It  is  true  that  he  could  never  count  upon  the  absolute  loyalty  of  all  those 
who  should  have  been  his  sup|)ort.  Radical  men  could  not  understand  his  pro- 
gressive conservatism.  When  he  refused,  early  in  the  war.  to  allow  a  self-conti- 
dent  ijeneral  to  emancipate  net^rroes,  the  abolitionists  were  shocked  and  grieved. 
When  he  retained  in  command,  month  after  month,  a  general  whom  he,  far 
better  than  his  critics,  knew  to  be  a  failure,  the  smaller  men  accused  him  of 
lack  of  energy  and  with  trilling.  Me  could  not  silence  them  all  with  the  lesson 
which  he  administered  to  the  members  of  his  cabinet  when  they  protested 
against  rei)lacing  McClellan  in  command  of  the  forces  in  Washington  after  the 
failure  of  his  campaign  upon  the  James,  and  the  crushing  defeat  of  Pope,  lie 
showed  them  that  he  saw  all  that  they  did  ;  that  he  knew  the  weakness  of  that 
general  even  better  than  they  ;  nay,  more,  that  in  the  light  of  all  the  facts  the 
reinstatement  was  in  the  nature  of  a  personal  humiliation  to  himself.  Put  when 
he  asked  them  to  name  the  man  who  could  better  be  relied  upon  to  reorganize 
the  army,  when  he  offered  freely  to  appoint  the  better  man  if  they  would 
name  him,  they  had  no  nomination  to  make.  He  had  showed  them  anew 
the  difference  between  the  irresponsible  critic  and  the  responsible  head  of 
affairs. 

Put  upon  what  Lincoln  called  "the  plain  people,"  the  mass  of  his  country- 
men, he  could  always  depend,  because  he,  more  than  any  other  political  leader 
in  our  history,  understood  them.  Sumner,  matchless  advocate  of  liberty  as  he 
was,  distrusted  the  President,  and  was  desirous  of  getting  the  power  out  of  his 
hands  into  stronijer  and  safer  ones.  But  suddenly  the  great  Massachusetts 
Senator  awoke  to  the  fact  that  he  could  not  command  the  suppo'-l  of  his  own 
constituency,  and  found  it  necessary  to  issue  an  interview  declaring  himself  not- 
an  opponent,  but  a  supporter  of  Lincoln. 

In  the  dark  days  of  1862,  when  the  reverses  of  the  Union  arms  casta  gloom 
over  the  North,  and  European  governments  were  seriously  considering  the  pro- 
priety of  recognizing  the  Confederacy,  it  seemetl  to  Mr.  Lincoln  that  his  time 
had  come,  that  the  North  was  prepared  to  su])port  a  radical  measure,  and  that 
emancipation  would  not  only  weaken  the  .South  at  home,  but  would  make  it 
impossible  for  any  European  government  to  take  the  attitude  toward  slavery 
which  woukl  be  involved  in  recognizing  the  Confederacy.  Action  was  de- 
layed until  a  fa\()ral)le  moment,  and  after  the;  liattle  of  .\ntietam  tlu;  Presi 
dent  called  his  cabinet  together  and  announced  that  he  was  al)out  to  issue 
the  Proclamation  of  lunancipation.  It  was  a  solemn  moment.  The  President 
hail  made  a  vow — "I  promisetl  my  Cod."  wvxv.  his  words — that  if  the;  tide 
of  invasion  should  be  mercifully  arrestetl,  Ik,-  woukl  set  the  negro  free.  The 
final    proclamation,    issued   three   months   later,    fitly   closes   with   an   appeal 


24'') 


ABRAHAM  I.IXCOI.X. 


which  iiuhc;it('s  the  dmout  spirit  in  wliich  tht;  deed  was  done:  ''And  upon 
this  act,  sincin-clv  Ix^Hcvcd  to  In;  an  act  of  justice,  warranted  h\-  tht;  Con- 
stitution u[)on  niihtary  necessity,  1  invoke;  the  considerate  judgment  ot  mankind, 
and  the  L;'racious  tavor  ol  .\hni^hty  (iod." 


Ills    (,Ki;.\  lNi;ss    AS    A    srATKSM.'vX. 


Hut  tlie  nei^ro  fiuestion,  thouL,di  a  constant,  underlying-  difficulty,  was  hy  no 
means  the   whole  of  Lincoln's  probh'in.     (hiestions  of   foreii^n   policy,  of  the 


'::■;';■■  A-  .<:.>■' :   .    ■■.■•.  -^s.   '  :    ,■•.'7 ■•        •..T:-v,^-.;:v;.,.-t 


■  •.  -■v-H.>,..    ,  ■    ■  r  V'J-,.^.,^;/. 


lURIl  N   1  VI'.    \II\V    (i|-     ,\MII.R^"\VI1,I.I'.    I'RISON, 


conduct  of  th(;  war,  the  ever  pr(!sent  necessity  of  providing'  money,  whici, 
flowetl  out  of  th(>  treasury  in  a  thousand  streams  uiuUm'  tin*  stress  of  daily 
^rowin*^-  ami  I'xpandino-  public  expenditure;,  th(;  jealousy  of  politicians  and  the 
bickerim^s  of  generals,  all  these,  and  a  thousand  wearin<^-,  perplexiuL;-  details, 
filhnl  his  days  and  ni^^hts  with  laljor  ami  anxiety.  And,  through  it  all,  the  s^reat 
man,  bearing  his  burden  from  day  to  day,  ijj^rew  in  the  love  of  his  |)eo])l(!  as  they 
came   to  know  him   better.     It  is  of  the  human   side  of  Lincoln  that  we  think 


ins  cKii.iT  A/uf./'/ir.s. 


247 


most,  of  his  homclv  speech,  his  kindliness,  ot  llie  \\a\'  he  persistecl,  all  throiiL^h 
the  war,  in  seeing-  antl  conxersinL;"  with  the  thousands  of  all  classes  who 
thronjred  the  doors  ot  the  \\  hite  1  louse,  of  the  tears  that  canu:  to  his  cncs  at 
each  story  ot "ilistress,  of  his  reailiness  to  pardon,  his  uinvil!inL;ness  to  punish,— 


TiiF.  f-Ai'Ti'Ri'  or  nonrir.  thk  ^^iavfr  or  i.imoin. 


but  this  is  only  part  of  Lincoln.  I  lis  ^rasj)  of  (piestions  of  State  policy  was 
superior  to  that  of  anv  of  his  advisers.  The  ini|)ortant  dispatch  to  our  minister 
to  England  in  May,  1.S61,  outlining'  the  course  to  be  pursued  toward  that 
power,  has  been  published  in  its  orii.:;inal  draft,  showint^  the  work  of  the  .Secre- 


248  ABRAHAM  LINCOLN. 

tary  of  State  and  the  President's  alterations.  Of  this  publication  the  editor  of 
the  Xorth  American  Rcric7u  says:  "  Many  military  men,  who  have  had  access 
to  Mr.  Lincoln's  papers,  have  classed  him  as  the  best  general  of  the  war.  This 
paper  will  'j;p  far  toward  establishin_L,r  his  reputation  as  its  ablest  diplcjmatist." 
It  would  be  impossible  for  any  intt;lli<;ent  person  to  study  the  paper  thus 
published,  the  omissions,  the  alterations,  the  substitutions,  without  acknowledg- 
\Vig  that  they  were  the  work  of  a  master  mind,  and  that  the  raw  backwoodsman, 
not  three  months  in  office,  was  the  peer  of  any  statesman  with  whom  he  mit,dit 
find  it  necessary  to  cope.  He  was  entirely  willing-  to  grant  to  his  secretaries 
and  to  his  generals  the  greatest  liberty  of  action  ;  he  was  ready  to  listen  to 
any  one,  and  to  accept  advice  even  from  hostile  critics  ;  and  this  readiness  made 
them  think,  sometimes,  that  he  had  little  mind  of  his  own,  and  brought  upon 
him  the  charge  of  weakness  ;  but,  as  the  facts  have  become  more  fully  known, 
it  has  grown  more  and  more  evident  that  he  was  not  only  the  "best  general  " 
and  the  "ablest  diplomatist,"  but  the  greatest  man  among  all  the  great  men 
whom  that  era  of  trial  brought  to  the  rescue  of  our  country. 

And  when  the  end  came,  after  four  years  of  contlict,  when  the  triumph 
seemed  complete  and  the  work  of  saving  the  Union  appeared  to  be  accomplished, 
it  needed  only  the  martyr's  crown  to  add  depth  of  pathos  to  our  memory  of 
Lincoln,  and  insure  him  that  fame  which  had  been  prophesied  for  him,  should  he 
make  himself  the  "  emancipator,  the  liberator.  That  is  a  fame  worth  living  for  ; 
ay.  more,  that  is  a  fame  worth  dying  for,  though  that  death  led  through  the  blood 
of  Gethsemane  and  the  agony  of  the  accursed  tree.  That  is  a  fame  which  has 
glory  and  honor  and  immortality,  and  eternal  life," 

The  story  of  the  end  need  hardly  be  told.  On  the  evening  of  April  14, 
1865.  Abraham  Lincoln  was  shot  by  a  half-crazed  sympathizer  with  the  South, 
John  Wilkes  Booth.  The  President  had  gone,  by  special  invitation,  to  witness 
a  play  at  Ford's  Theatre,  and  the  assassin  had  no  difficulty  in  gaining  entrance 
to  the  box,  committing  the  dreadful  deed,  and  leaping  to  the  stage  to  make  his 
escape.  The  story  of  his  pursuit  and  death  while  resisting  arrest  is  familiar  to 
us  all.  Mr.  Lincoln  lingered  till  the  morning,  when  the  little  group  of  friends 
and  relatives,  with  members  of  the  cabinet,  stood  with  breaking  hearts  about  the 
deatii-bcd. 

Sorrow  more  deep  and  universal  cannot  be  imagined  than  enveloped  our 
land  on  that  15th  of  April.  Throughout  the  country  every  household  felt  the 
loss  as  of  one  of  themselves.  The  honored  remains  lay  for  a  few  days  in  state 
at  Washington,  and  then  began  the  funeral  journey,  taking  in  backward  course 
almost  tlie  route  which  had  been  followed  four  years  before,  when  the  new'ly 
elected  President  came  to  assume  his  burdens  and  to  lay  down  his  life.  .Such  a 
pilgrimage  of  sorrow  had  never  been  witnessed  by  our  people.  It  was  followed 
by  the  sympathy  of  the  whole  world  until  the  loved  remains  were  laid  in  the 


APPEA RANCH  A XI)  CHARACTER.  249 

tomb  at  Sprint^field.     Over  the  door  f)f  the  State;  I  louse,  in  the  city  of  his  homftj. 
where  his  oK'  "fii^hbors  took  their  last  farewell,  were  the  lines : — 


O" 


"  He  left  us  bdrnc  up  I)y  our  [iravLTs  ; 
II'j  returns  cuiliaiiucd  in  ciur  tears." 

"Cities  and  States,"  said  the  L;reat  Beecher,  "are  his  pall-bearcrs,  and  the 
cannon  speaks  the  hours  with  solemn  proo;ression.  Dead,  dead,  d(!ad,  he  yet 
speaketh.  Is  \Vashinc,^ton  dead?  Is  I  lampden  dead  !  Is  any  man,  that  ever 
was  fit  to  live,  dead?  Disenthralled  of  tU-sh,  risen  to  the  imobstruct(!d  sphere 
where  passion  never  comes,  he  begins  his  illimitable  work.  His  life  is  now 
grafted  upon  the  infinite,  and  will  be  fruitfid  as  no  (.'arthly  life  can  be.  Pass  on, 
thou  that  hast  overcome.  Ye  people,  behold  the  martyr  whose  blood,  as  so 
many  articulate  words,  pleads  for  fidelity,  for  law,  for  liberty." 

TRAITS    OF    HIS    (TIAKAC  TKR. 

Abraham  Lincoln  was  in  every  way  a  remarkable  man.  Towerinq-  above 
his  fellows,  six  feet  four  inches  in  height,  his  t^aunt  fijj^ure,  somewhat  stooping, 
w^ould  of  itself  attract  attention.  Possessed  of  gigantic  strength,  he  was  diffi- 
dent and  modest  in  the  extreme.  The  habits  of  youth,  and  a  natural  indifference 
to  such  things,  made  him  through  life  careless  of  dress.  When  he  came  upon 
the  stage  at  Cooper  Institute,  in  1S60,  he  probably  was  for  the  first  time  discon- 
certed by  his  clothing.  1  le  had  donned  a  wo."^'  suit,  which  seemed  not  to  fit  his 
great  limbs,  and  showed  the  creases  made  by  close  packing  in  a  valise.  lie 
imagined  that  his  audience  noticed  the  contrast  between  his  dress  and  that  of 
William  CuUen  P)ryant  and  other  gentlemen  on  the  stage,  and  he  was  wc;ll  into 
his  address  before  he  could  forget  it.  The  expression  of  his  face  was  sad  ;  and 
as  the  war  dragged  its  slow  length  along,  that  sadness  deepened.  His  mind  was 
always  tinged  w'ith  a  settled  melancholy,  an  inherited  trait,  and  it  is  doubtful 
whether  he  was  ever  entirely  free  from  the  mental  depression  which  on  two 
occasions  almost  overwhelmed  him.  Notwithstanding  this,  he  was  the  greatest 
inventor  and  gatherer  f)f  amusing  stories  known  to  our  public  life;,  lb;  used 
these  stories  on  every  occasion,  whether  to  amuse  a  chance  listener,  to  enforce 
a  point  in  a  speech,  or  to  divert  the  mintl  of  an  imwelcome  (pu^stioner.  Digni- 
fied statesmen  and  aml)assadors  were  astounded  when  the  President  interrupted 
their  stilted  talk  with  a  story  of  "a  man  out  in  Sangamon  Coimty."  He 
opened  that  meeting  of  the  Cabinet  at  which  he  announced  his  soUmuu  purpose 
to  Issue  the  Emancipation  Proclamation  by  reading  aloud  a  chapter  from 
Artemus  Ward.  But  the  joke  was  always  for  a  piu-pose.  1  le  settled  many  a 
weighty  question,  which  hours  of  argument  could  not  have  done  so  well,  by  the 
keen,  incisive  wit  of  one  of  these  homely  "yarns."  His  great  Secretary  of 
State,  gravely  discussing  questions  of  state  policy,  felt  the  ground  give  waV 

IS 


2;o 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN. 


under  his  feet  wlien  the  Tresident  was  "reminded"  of  a  story  of  a  net^ro 
preacher.  He  s(;ttle<l  the  (luestion  of  a  chan^^e  of  commanding  generals  by 
remarking  that  it  was  a  "  had  plan  to  swap  horses  in  the  middle  of  a  stream  ;  " 
and  continually  he  lighteiunl  his  labors  and  relieved  his  care  by  the  native  wit 
which  could  fit  to  the  (piestion  of  the  hour,  great  or  small,  a  homely  illustration 
vhich  exactly  covered  the  grounil. 

His  gift  of  expression  was  only  equaled  by  the  clearness  and  firmness  of 
his  grasp  upon  th(;  truths  which  he  dcsind  to  convey  ;  ami  the  beauty  of  his 
words,  upon  many  occasions,  is  only  matched  by  the  goodness  and  purity  of  the 

.soul  from  which  they  sprung. 
His  Gettysburg  speech  will  be 
rem«.*mbered  as  long  as  the  story 
of  the  battle  for  freedom  shall  be 
told  :  and  of  his  second  Inaugu- 
ral it  has  been  said  :  "  This  v.-as 
like  a  sacred  poem.  No  Ameri- 
can President  had  ever  spoken 
words  like  these  to  the  American 
people.  America  never  had  a 
President  who  found  such  words 
in  the  depth  of  his  heart."  These 
were  its  closing  words,  and  with 
them  we  may  fitly  close  this  im- 
perfect sketch  : — 

•  Fondly  do  we  hope,  fer- 
vently do  we  pray,  that  this 
mighty  scourge  of  war  may 
s[)eedily  pass  away.  Yet  if  Ciod 
wills  that  it  continue  until  all  the 
wealth  piled  by  the  bondman's 
two  hundred  and  fifty  years  of 
unrequited  toil  shall  be  sunk, 
and  until  every  drop  of  blood  drawn  with  the  lash  shall  be  paid  by  another 
drawn  by  the  sword,  as  was  said  three  thousand  years  ago.  so  still  it  must 
Vie  said.  'The  judgments  of  the  Lord  are  true  and  righteous  altogether.' 
With  malice  toward  none,  with  charity  for  all.  with  firmness  in  the  right,  as  God 
gives  us  to  see  the  right,  let  us  stri\e  on  to  finish  the  work  we  are  in,  to  bind 
up  the  nation's  wounds,  to  care  for  liim  who  shall  have  borne  the  battle,  and  for 
his  widow  and  his  orphan  ;  to  do  all  which  may  achieve  and  cherish  a  just  and 
lasting  peace  among  ourselves  and  with  all  nations." 


ANDRFAV   JOHNSON. 


2t,2 


'WILLIAM     H.     SEWARD, 

THK    STA.  TICS  MAX     ^\Xn     1  )1 1  "I.OM  ATIST. 


MI1.X    \vi;  look  l)ack  over  the  tiinc  of  fnir  t^rca*:  Civil 

War  and  tin;  dccadi;  wliiih   prcccchid   it,  those  years 

seem    prolific    of    L;reat    men.       Cirt^at    (piestions 

appealed  to  our  citizens  for  discussion  and  settlt;- 

ment  ;    j^reat    (Mneri^rencies    aros(\    fraught     with 

extremest  dans^uM'   to  our  national  life  ;  hut  with 

n(|L^>     ■:     1    v'^'^^IHr  them   arose   men    tlivinely   endowed    with    minds 

'  "'       \.    I  /      ^-j^V"  j^i^j  hearts  equal  to  the  threat  demands.     ( )f  these 

"  men  who  saved  the  nation,"  n(jnc;  filled  at  the 
time  a  larger  place  in  the  public  mind,  and  p(;r- 
ha])s  none  save  Lincoln  have  more  fully  deserved 
their  fame,  than  William  H.  Sewaril. 

There  is  a  sort  of  fascination  about  the  story 
of  the  boy  who  begins  lite  by  running  away  from  his  parents'  control. 
\Vhen  .Seward  was  seventeen  years  old  he  found  himself  at  variance  with  his 
/ather  about  tailors'  bills  and  other  vital  matters,  and  leaving  I'nion  College,  at 
Schenectady,  without  th(;  knowkidge  of  his  parents,  j(nirne)-ed  to  (ieorgia, 
"where  he  engaged  to  take  charge  of  a  certain  I'nion  Academy,  at  tin;  salary  of 
eight  hundred  dollars  per  year.  The  future  statesman  was  so  affected,  however, 
by  a  letter  from  his  fath(;r,  depicting  tlu;  distress  of  his  mother,  that  he  trans- 
ferretl  the  engagement  to  a  frieiul  and  returned  to  college. 

William  II.  Seward  was  tin;  fourth  of  a  famib'  of  six  children,  and,  being 
born  in  iSoi,  at  a  time  when  slavery  was  in  process  of  grailual  abolition  in  New 
^'ork,  his  life  covered,  almost  exactlv,  the  period  of  our  country's  strusj-srje  with 
that  question.  In  that  struggle  he  was  himself  to  take  a  leading  part.  His 
father,  Samuel  S.  Seward,  was  a  man  of  some  culture,  who  added  to  the  practice 
of  medicine  the  varied  occupations  of  farmer,  merchant,  magistrate,  and 
politician.  His  mother  was  in  every  way  a  worthy  hi-lp-meet  to  her  energetic 
husband,  while  possessing  that  softer  nature  which  engaged  th(!  affection  of  her 
children,  as  that  of  their  sterner  father  failed  to  tlo. 

Graduating  from  college,  young  Seward  determined  to  enter  die  law,  and 


254 


WfUJAM  II.  SEWARD. 


pursued  tin-  stutly.  which  he  had  alrcaily  hcj^un,  in  a  law  otTuc  in  (ioshni,  and 
in  the  city  of  New  NOrk.  and  a^fain  in  (loshtMi.  lie  was  .i(hiiitt(;cl  to  practice 
in  1.S22,  and  iinnKrdiately  formed  a  partnership  for  the  practice  of  his  profession  in 
the  town  of  Auburn,  which  continued  to  he  his  home.  His  choici;  of  a  location 
had  been  intluenced  Ijy  the  fact  that  it  was  the  homi?  of  a  certain  Miss  !•" ranees 
A.  Miller,  who,  when  the  law  had  sufticiently  smiled  upon  lu.-r  youns;  de-votee, 
became  Mrs.  .Scwanl. 

The  youni(  lawyer  r<'adily  inadt;  a  place  for  himself  nut  only  in  his  profes- 
sion, but  in  the  social  lik:  of  the  community,  and  in  the  local  politics,     lie  had 


01. 1)    MAV    YliKK    MANSION    NKAR    SIWARli  S    IIOMK. 


been  brou^^ht  up  in  the  political  school  of  Jefferson,  but  found  his  opinions  so 
altered  by  his  own  study  of  principles,  of  men,  and  of  events,  that  he  never  cast 
a  vote  for  the  canditlates  of  that  party,  idcntifyinL,^  himself  at  once  with  the 
"National  Republicans,"  and  later  with  the  "Anti-Masons,"  the  "Whigs,"  and 
so,  by  natural  process,  becoming  a  leading  Republican.  The  reception  to 
Lafayette,  in  1S25,  was  a  notable  event  in  Auburn,  and  in  this,  as  in  all  transac- 
tions of  local  importance,  .Seward  took  a  prominent  part.  His  influence  in  local 
politics  caused  him  to  be  one  of  a  caucus  held  in  1830,  in  Albany,  to  consider 
measures  for    widening  the  field  of  the    influence  of  the  Anti-Masonic  party, 


rOf./T/CS  /.V  Xl'.W  JfVv'A'.  -55 

and  his  tact  and  ability  so  ii)i|ir(sscd  his  coailjulors  as  to  in.ikr  him  oin-  of  the 
leaders  of  thi;  party.  Mere,  tor  the  first  time,  Ik;  was  broiij^lit  into  that  close 
association  with  Thurlow  \\'<'c(l  whiih  became  really  a  |)olitical  partnership, 
and  which,  for  a  j^eneration,  was  to  dominate  the  politics  ot  the  Stati-,  and  to  be 
counted  as  one  of  the  j^q-eatest  forc(!s  in  the  nation  at  lari^c 

Under  the  intluence  of  this  coalition,  \\v.  was,  in  iS^).  electi'd  as  the  candi 
date  of  tin;  Anti-Masonic  party,  a  member  of  tin;  .State  .Senate,  in  which  position 
he  acquitted  himself  with  honor,  lhoiiL;h  the  collapse  of  his  party  prt'vented  a 
re-election.  The  orujanization  of  the  W  hii;'  parts',  ho\ve\cr,  i^ave  the  political 
firm  of  Weed  cS:  .Seward  abundant  opportunity  for  tlu;  exercise  of  thi-ir  talents, 
and  to  .S(;ward  it  broui^ht  the  nomination  for  (iovernor.  This  so  surpriseil  his 
neighbors  in  .\uburn  that  some  of  them  of  his  own  |)arty  declared  that  ••  the 
State  must  be  in  a  strauL^e  condition  if  .Seward  is  amon^-  its  j^reatest  men," — a 
surprise  which  may  ha\(;  been  (piieted  by  tlu;  remark  of  one  of  the  delegates 
to  the  convention:  "(lentlemen,  I  have  learned  one  thin^;'  by  ijoint^  to  I'tica, 
and  that  is,  that  a  ij^reat  man  never  lives  at  home."  llis  failure  of  election 
broui^dit  no  rcial  discourai^ement  to  Mr.  .Seward,  as  the  campaign  had  ori^-'anized 
and  solidifietl  tht;  ik;w  |)arty,  ami  he  now  devoted  himself  to  building  up  his  law 
practice,  ami  could  write  to  Weetl,  declining  to  be  used  in  the  building-  ol  any 
more  "  political  cob-houses." 

I.\irKKSSIONS    OF    SI  A\KKV. 

In  1S35  he  ilrove  with  Mrs.  .Seward  to  the  Natural  IJriil^c  in  X'irj^dnia,  and 
we  find  rellectetl  in  his  letters  the  painful  impressions  of  slavery,  which  contirmi:d 
his  j)revious  sentiments,  and  helix'd  to  make  him  the  wise,  consistent  opponent 
of  its  extension  which  he  afterward  becauK;.  ;\  sins^le  scent;  will  illustrate 
this  :  A  cK  ul  of  dust  comes  slowly  up  the  road,  from  which  proceeds  a  confusion 
of  moanini^  weejjint^,  and  shoutint,''.  Presently  it  is  seen  to  be'  caused  by  ten 
little  naked  boys,  from  six  to  twc;lve  years  old,  tied  together,  two  and  two,  by 
their  wrists,  and  fastened  to  a  rope,  while  a  tall  white  man  drives  the  procession 
by  aid  of  a  lonor  whip,  watering  its  hungry  members  at  the  horse-trough,  and 
then  leaving  them  to  sob  themselves  to  sle(;p  in  a  shed.  These  children  had 
been  purchased  at  different  plantations,  and  were  being  tlriven  to  Richmond,  to 
be  sold  at  auction  antl  taken  .South. 

Mr.  Seward  s|)ent  the  great(;r  part  of  the  years  1836  and  1837  at  Westfield. 
Chautauqua  Co.,  X.  V.,  in  adjusting  th(^  ditficulties  between  the  Holland  Land 
Company  and  the  setders  in  that  part  of  the  .State,  a  service;  in  which  he  was 
eminently  successful  antl  which  resulteil  greatly  to  his  financial  benefit.  The 
Whig  victory  of  1836  brought  a  revival  of  .Seward's  political  aspirations,  and  in 
1S38  he  was  elected  Governor.  The  most  notal)le  f(;atures  of  his  administration 
were  his  refusal  to  deliver  to  the  X'irginia  authorities  three  sailors  who  were 
charged  with  secreting  an  escaping  slave,  a  subsequent  dispute  with  Georgia 


256  Wlf.lJAM  II.  S J:\VAK1). 

over  a  similar  matter,  the  abulishiiiL;-  of  imprisonment  for  debt  in  New  \'ork, 
and  the  fostc^'in^;  of  general  education,  internal  improvements,  and  foreign 
immigration. 

A  pleasant  anecilote  of  (io\crnor  Seward  is  to  the  effect  that  (jne  Sunday 
in  Xew  \(>rk  lie;  startetl  out  to  find  an  l*!piscopal  church.  He  entered  one  near 
IJroadway,  to  which  he-  had  fre([uently  been  invited,  but  no  one  offered  him  a 
seat.  l''ollowt:d  by  the  UKMubers  of  his  stall,  h(;  traversed  the  entire  length  of 
thi;  church,  when,  linding  a  door  in  the  rear  wall,  he  passed  quietly  out  into  the 
churchvartl.  .S(jme  of  the;  church  otticers  followed  th<'  parly  out,  with  assur- 
ances that  no  oltense  had  been  intended,  tliat  had  the  members  known  who  it 
was  seats  would  have  been  plenty,  and  iin  iled  their  return.  The  reply  was  to 
the  e-ltect  that  Mr.  .Seward  had  no  desire  to  \isit  a  church  which  had  a  seat  for 
a  g()\ernor,  but  none  for  a  stranger. 

("lovernor  Seward  also  demonstrated,  in  a  way  which  will  appeal  very 
strongly  to  the  sympathies  of  this  gen(!ration,  his  wiilingni'ss  to  de|)art  from 
time-honored  precedent  when  he  was  convincc'd  that  the  precedent  was  not 
founded  in  right  principle;.  In  his  prejiaration  for  the  New  ^'ear  s  celebration 
of  1842  he  subslitutc:d  cold  water  and  lemonade  for  the  punch  and  wine  which 
IkuI  previously  been  pro\id(!tl  ;  and  this  he  did  not  in  accordance  with  his  own 
tastes  so  much  as  b(!cause  he  beli<'\-ed  that  the  growing  tem])erance  sentiment 
was  entitled  to  recognition,  and  that  those  in  authority  should  set  a  proper 
e.xample  in  such  matters. 

At  the  close  of  the  year  1S42  the  (iovernor  retiretl  to  private  life,  having 
declined  to  be  a  candiilate  for  a  third  term.  ( )ne  feature  of  his  administration 
is  still  worthy  of  notice  :  he  was  exceptionally  th'm  in  the:  refusal  of  pardons  to 
convicted  criminals.  Listening  patiently  to  every  applicant,  weighing  carefully 
all  the  evidence,  and  devotinj^  days  and  nights  of  anxious  labor  to  the  study  of 
important  cases,  he  absolutely  refused  to  yield  to  the  pressure  of  inllucnce,  or 
even  to  jjopular  ojjinion,  and  where  no  errors  were  manifest  and  he  could  not 
be  convinced  that  humanity  would  be  the  gainer  by  interfering,  he  insisted  that 
the  course;  of  justice  must  not  be  interrupted,  and  that  the  judgment  of  the 
courts  must  be  fulfilled.  In  cas(>s,  Iiowever,  where  he  felt  that  mercy  could  be 
safely  (extended,  it  was  done,  without  regard  to  th<i  previous  social  standing  of 
the  Ijeneficiarv  or  the  political  influence,'  of  his  friends. 

1  Ic;  ne)w  den-oteel  himself  again  to  the  law,  his  wide  re4)utatie)n  bringing  to 
him  important  cases  in  all  the  higher  courts.  I'.ntering  with  much  liesitation 
and  distrust  e)f  his  powe-rs  upe)n  cases  unele;r  the:  patent  laws,  he:  was  surprised 
to  finel  himse'lf  unusually  succe-ssful,  and  this  branch  of  his  practice  became  not 
only  important  but  lucrative. 

The  Whig  party  was  torn  by  elisse-nsions.  The  war  of  opiniein  among  its 
members,  te)gether  with  the  conflict  of  opposing  ambitie)n  among  its  leaders, 


UXITIU)  STAT/iS  S/iX.-r/VK. 


257 


prc\ented  any  permanent  succ(;ss,  but  a  season  ol  ddeat.  with  a  tiM'in  out  of 
office,  brouq-ht  its  members  a,i;ain  to  sett  the  necessity  of  harmon\',  ami  the 
iinpossibiHty  of  success  whili-  its  prominent  men  wen  williuL;'  to  sacrifice  not 
only  the  hopes  of  their  fdlow-partisans.  but  the  princi[)les  of  their  j>arty,  for  llieir 
own  personal  and  t(;mporar\-  triumph.  So  the  Wlii^s  elected  I  larrison  in  1  S40, 
were  def(;ated  with  Clay  in  1^44,  \ictorious  with  Taylor  in  1.S4.S,  and  wert?  ready 
to  disappear  with  Scott  in  1852,  leaving,''  all  that  was  \ital  in  their  orq;anization 
or  principles  to  rally  to  the  support  of  the  new  jjarty  which  nominati  d  bremont 
in  iS^6  and  elected  Lincoln  in   1S60. 


SF.AI.   C\  II  IIINi;    IN    AI   \->KA. 


r,i.i:ci-i()X    lo  -I'liK  uNri'f.i)  siaths  sI'Nati-. 

The  success  of  the  W'hin's  in  1S48  made  possible  llu-  election  of  Mr.  Sewanl 
to  the  Senate,  which  body  lu;  entered  two  years  befo'-e  .Sumner,  with  whom  and 
Chase  and  Hale  he;  was  to  op])os('  the  forceps  of  slavery. 

.Senator  .Seward  is  described  as  a  slender,  hook-nosed,  t;ray  eyeil,  homely 
man,  haviiii^  red  hair,  a  voice  harsh  and  un])leasant.  and  a  manner  decidedly 
awkward,  but  his  s[)eeches  were  L^raceful  and  smooth  as  well  as  strong',  their 
style  was  pure  and  cK^ar,  and  it  was  early  noticed  that  when  tin-  Senator  from 
New  \'ork  arose  to  spi:ak,  the  .Senate;  was  ready  to  listen.  1  lis  spc^eches  are 
said  to  have  done  more  than  any  other  one  thin<4^  to  outline  a  ileclaration  of  faith 
upon  which  the  various  groui)b  of  anti-slavery  men  the  country  over  could  agree. 


258  n'ILLlA.\[  If.  SEWARD. 

If  this  be  true,  it  has  been  too  much  overlooked  in  recountingf  Mr.  Seward's 
claims  to  greatness.  I  lis  services  as  Lincoln's  Secretary  of  State  and  his  suc- 
cess in  steeriuL,''  the;  country  through  the  stormy  times  when  a  mistake  would 
have  brought  on  foreign  war,  or  a  wrongly  phrased  dispatch  precipitated  a 
recognition  of  the  Southern  Confederacy,  have  overshadowed  what  certainly 
was  no  less  great,  the  bringing  together  into  a  single  party,  disciplined  and 
united,  the  widely-dittering  factions,  largely  composed  of  hot-headed  fanatics, 
which  in  1S50  could  hardly  be  said  to  be  united  in  anything,  so  far  asunder  were 
they,  even  in  their  opposition  to  slavery.  Seward  used  cpiotations  with  great 
felicity,  for  his  memory  was  exact  and  capacious,  and  his  reading  had  been 
wide.  lie  never  descended  to  coarse  jokes  or  mere  buffoonery,  but  his 
speeches  as  well  as  his  autobiography  abound  in  a  keen,  dry,  delightful  humor, 
which  atlded  much  to  their  force,  and  which  makes  them  still  agreeable  reading. 

His  invitation  to  the  Southern  .Senators  to  come  and  argue  their  case  openly 
before  the  people  of  the  North,  and  the  contrast  which  he  made  evident  between 
the  freedom  with  which  they  might  do  so,  and  the  rancor  and  persecution  which 
followed  even  the  mildest  expression  of  anti-slavery  sentiments  at  the  .South, 
demonstrated  .Summer's  proposition  that  "  freedom  was  national  anil  slavery  sec- 
tional ;  "  and  the  way  in  which  the  Xew  York  .Senator  laid  bare  the  vicious  nature 
of  a  cause  which  thus  stilled  free  speech  anil  hunted  an  opponent  to  death  could 
not  be  more  effective.  Two  phrases  of  his  used  in  the  delates  of  this  period 
have  become  historic,  his  ileclaration  that  th(;re  was  "  a  higher  laio  than  the  Con- 
stitution which  regulated  the  authority  of  Congress  over  the  national  domain, — 
the  law  of  God  anil  the  interests  of  humanity,"  and  his  reference  to  the  "irre- 
pressible contlict"  which  could  only  end  in  the  country  becoming  all  free  or  en- 
tirely a  slaveholding  nation. 

In  all  the  heated  political  warfare  between  1850  and  1S60,  Mr.  .Seward  bore 
a  prominent  part,  and  so  evidently  was  he  the  leader  of  the  Republican  forces 
that  it  was  thought  that  he  must  necessarily  be  the  party  candidate  for  the 
presidency.  When  the  convention  assembled  at  Chicago  this  seemed  to 
the  party  mana;;ers  a  foregone  conclusion,  but  a  variety  of  causes,  personal 
hostility,  local  prejudices,  and  that  peculiar  qualification,  "availability,"  gave  the 
nomination  to  Lincoln. 

Mr.  .Seward  must  have  been  iirofoundly  disappointed,  but  he  niadc;  no  sign. 
He  cheerfully  set  to  work  to  promote  the  success  of  his  party,  and  made,  in  the 
cam[)aign  which  foUovt-ed,  a  series  of  speeches,  which,  together  with  those 
delivered  four  years  before,  form  a  complete  presentation  of  the  anti-slavery 
case.  The  .South  was  crying  out  that  the  eK;ction  of  Lincoln  meant  the  destruc- 
tion of  the  rights  and  property  of  that  section  ;  but  .Seward's  s[)eeches  proved, 
if  proof  were  necessary,  that  this  was  merely  an  excuse,  put  forward  by  those 
in  favor  of  secession. 


GREATXESS  AS  A  PIPLOMAT/ST.  259 

Between  Lincoln's  election  antl  inauguration,  Seward  was  largely  instru- 
mental in  checking  treason  in  Buchanan's  caljinet,  ami  in  s(.-curing  tht;  country 
against  its  clangers.  1  le  consitlerinl  the;  battle;  against  sla\ery  won  l)\'  Lincoln's 
election,  and  fi;lt  convinced  that  the  Rc'publican  policy  of  forbidding  its  ('xten- 
sion  would  end  in  its  final  death  ;  antl  in  that  belii;f  he  was  willing  to  wait,  to 
turn  his  back,  for  a  time,  to  the  all-absorbing  (|uestion.  ami  to  devote  all  his 
present  energies  to  conciliation,  and  to  the  work  of  saving  the  Union. 

Lincoln's  skcrl'I'akv  ok  siati:. 

Mr.  Seward  had  early  formed  a  resolution  ne\er  to  acce[)t  an  office  by 
appointmtMit  unless  it  should  seem  to  him  that  such  a  course  was  absolutely 
demanded  by  the  welfare  of  the  country.  It  is  easy  to  believe  that  it  was  this 
reason  which  induced  him  to  become  Lincoln's  Secretary  of  State,  lie  proba- 
bly came  to  the  office  with  something  of  contempt  for  the'  awkwanl,  uncultured 
Lresitlent,  and  with  the  idea  that  he  was  to  be  the  real  force  of  th(;  administra- 
tion,— a  sort  of  "  [)ower  behind  the  throne,"  in  whose  hands  the  inexperienced, 
would-be  stat(,'sman  from  the  West  would  be  easily  controlled  anil  prevented 
from  doing  harm.  Lie  early  found  himself  mistakcMi,  however,  and  glatlly  took 
the  real  position  to  which  he  had  been  chosen,  that  of  a  faithful  counsellor  to 
the  great  President.  Wist^ly  allowcul  a  large  lilxTty  in  the  contluct  of  his 
department,  the  secretary  brought  to  his  gigantic  task  resources  as  unexpected 
as  was  the  demand  for  them.  It  may  be  too  much  to  say,  as  has  been  said,  that 
during  the  four  years  of  striAi  "his  brain  was  pitted  against  all  luiropc,  and 
always  won,"  but  the  f[uestions  with  which  he  had  to  deal  had  no  precedent  in 
their  magnitude  or  their  urgency,  and  frequently  none  as  to  the  circumstances 
WMth  which  they  dealt. 

Three  instances  may  be  mentioned  :  the  Tnait  affair,  the  dcmiand  for  com- 
pensation on  account  of  damages  by  privateers  fitted  out  in  bJiglantl,  ami  the 
I'^-ench  occupation  of  Mexico.  The  weeks  succeetling  the  se-izure  of  the  Con- 
federate commissioners  who  had  embarked  from  the  West  Indies  for  Hngland 
upon  an  luiglish  passenger  steamer,  the  Trent,  have  been  referred  to  as  the 
darkest  period  of  the  war.  The  country  was  allame  with  patriotic  exultation  at 
the;  intrepidity  of  Cai)tain  Wilkes,  and  to  refuse  to  surrender  the  captives  at  the 
demand  of  luigland  secmied  certain  to  in\olve  the  ilistracted  country  in  a  war 
with  (ireat  Britain.  Th(!  clear-headed  wisdom  of  Lincoln,  the  acuteness  of 
Seward,  and  the  wide  knowledge  and  great  influence  of  .Sumner,  all  were 
needed  to  wring  victory  from  the  jaws  of  this  apparently  certain  defeat.  The 
country  submitted  unwillingly  at  first,  but  gradually  came;  to  recognize  the 
strength  anil  wisdom  of  a  policy  which  acknowledged  the  error  that  had  been 
made,  and  in  acknowledging  it  shrewdly  called  the  attention  of  the  British 
ministry  to  the  fact  that  it  was  out  of  just  such  violations  of  international  law 


26o 


WILLIAM  IL  SEWARI). 


that  the  War  of  1S12  arose,  and  that  ljiL;huul  had  n('\t;f  acknowledged  herself 
in  the  wrong.     Our  government  could  not  aftbrd  to  commit,  in  1861,  the  crimes 

against  which  it  had 
protested  a  half  cen- 
tury befcM'e,  aiul  I'-ng- 
land  was  left  in  the 
attitude  of  threaten- 
ing a  war  to  resent 
the  acts  of  which  shi; 
had  herself  \)vvw 
guilty. 

Mr. Seward  lived 
in  Washington  in  the 
house  occupied  in 
later  y(;ars  by  Secre- 
tary lllaine,  and  in 
which  \\\(\  latter  ilied. 
1  It;  surrounded  l;im- 
s(;lf  with  the  degree 
ot  luxiu'y  which  his 
moderate  wealth  jus- 
tified, and  filled  the 
])lace  in  society  which 
lK,'long(;(l  to  his  posi- 
tion in  tht!  govern- 
ment and  to  his  com- 
manding abilities  and 
great  intellectual  re- 
soiu'ces.  When  Lin- 
coln was  assassin- 
ated, the  plot  included 
th(;  murder  of  the 
S(!cretary  of  State. 
Mr.  .Seward  was  ill 
and  confmetl  to  his 
bed,  and  the  assassin 
seems  to  have  had 
no  difficulty  in  gain- 
ing access  to  his  chamber.  \\v.  was  SLal)l)ed  in  several  places,  particularly 
in  the  face,  but  the  bravery  of  his  male  nurse  prevented  his  being  killed.  I<"or 
days  it  was  questionable  whether  he  would  recover,  and  his  face  was  so  injured 


IIJciI.S   TfilKM,    ()|-    .ALASKA. 


THE  FREEMAN  CASE.  261 

that  it  was  difficult  to  feed  him.  It  was  thought  best  to  keep  him  in  ignorance 
of  the  fate  of  Lincohi,  but  when,  with  his  first  returniuL^  stren_!^rth.  he  saw  throusj^h 
his  window  the  White  House  lla^-  at  half-mast,  he-  instantly  divined  the  truth, 
and,  with  tears  coursini^  down  his  scarrc;d  cheeks,  exclaimed,  "The  President  is 
d<;ad  !  " 

Tin:    I'lKCIIASK    OK    ALASKA. 

Mr.  Seward  continued  to  occupy  the  office  of  Secretary  of  vStatc  durinjj;-  the 
presidency  of  Andrew  Johnson,  rather  leanin^^  to  the  side  of  the  President  in  his 
heated  controversy  with  Cons^ress.  The  most  notable  event  of  this  time,  aside 
from  the  reconstruction  of  the  Southern  States,  was  the  purchase  from  Russia 
of  the  territory  of  Alaska.  .Secretary  .Seward  was  quick  to  see  the  value  to  us 
of  this  vast  and  still  little-known  territory,  and  it  was  almost  altogether  through 
his  efforts  that  it  became  a  part  of  the  United  States. 

The  great  leader  had  now  completed  his  public  service.  I  le  spent  a  year 
in  a  journey  around  the  world,  being  everywhere  received  with  the  honor  due 
to  his  eminence  as  a  man  and  a  statesman.  Returning  to  Auburn,  he  began  to 
write  his  autobiography,  which  he  had  completed  as  far  as  the  year  1834,  when 
his  death  occurred  in  Octoljer,  1872. 

Opinion  will  always  differ  as  to  the  comparative  standing  and  services  of 
great  men,  but  it  can  never  deny  to  William  II.  Seward  a  place  among  the  fore- 
most. He  possessed  in  a  liigh  degree  that  peculiar  faculty  of  grasping  the 
thought  of  the  average  man,  which  enabled  him  to  organize  men  into  parties 
and  to  lead  die  parties  so  formed.  I  le  was  great  as  a  diplomatist,  as  a  states- 
man, a  politician,  a  lawyer,  but  he  possessed  some  qualities  which  constrain  us 
to  tender  to  him  our  greatest  atlmiration  as  a  man  in  his  rc.-lations  to  his  fellows. 
His  love  of  right,  his  hatred  of  injustice  in  any  form,  made  liim  the  willing 
servant  of  the  poor  and  helpless,  and  his  legal  learning  and  skill  as  an  aiKocate 
were  heartily  given  in  behalf  of  the  suffering  poor,  from  whom  he  could  hope  for 
no  reward,  and  could  not  be  bought  at  any  price  for  the  furtherance  of  o[)pres- 
sion  or  wrong. 

In  1846  Air.  .Seward  had  Interestetl  himself  to  secure  a  fair  trial  for  a  negro 
convict  who  had  murtlered  a  fellow-|)ris()ner.  While  the  case  was  ])en(ling,  a 
whole  family  was  murderetl  near  .\uburn,  ami  tht;  murderer,  another  negro, 
narrowly  escaped  lynching.  Mr.  Seward's  course  in  deft-nding  the  first  guilty 
man  became  at  once  very  unpopular,  and  excitement  rose  to  the  highest  pitch 
when,  in  the  absence  of  any  other  counsel,  he  volunteered  to  serv(;  the  second, 
The  accounts  of  the  trial  would  seem  to  demonstrate  that  the;  man  was  not 
responsible  for  his  deeds  ;  but  the  mob  spirit  was  aroused,  ami  the  demand  for 
his  conviction  and  execution  was  so  universal  as  to  make  the  part  of  his  volun- 
teer attorney  not  only  unpleasant  in  the;  extreme,  but  positiv(,'ly  dangerous. 
Mr.  Seward  felt  that  he  was,  in  all  probability,  sacrificing  his  popularity  and 


262 


JJV/JJ.LV  //.  SEWARD. 


his  influence  by  the  course  lie  was  taking,  and  these  were,  justly,  ver)  dear 
to  him,  but  he  did  not  hesitate. 

It    is    related     that    Mr.    Gladstone,    speakin^j    to    Charles    Sumner    of 

this  trial,  said  that  "  Mr.  Sew- 
ard's ar^uinent  in  the  I'ree- 
nian  case  is  the  greatest  forensic 
eltort  in  the  l^n^lish  lauLi^uaq'e." 
"The  -greatest?"  exclaimed  an- 
other gentleman;  "Mr.  Glad- 
stone, ytKi  forc^et  Hrskine." 
"  No."  was  the  reply,  "  I  do  not 
forget  Erskine ;  Mr.  Seward's 
argument  is  the  ^-reatest  forensic 
effort  in  th(;  language."  In  the 
preliminary  trial  he  had  referred 
to  the  feeling-  against  him,  sayincf 
that  it  miyht  very  possibly  con- 
tinu(.'  throughout  his  life  and 
make  his  t^rave  "  unhonored, 
neglected,  spurned,"  but  expres- 
sing a  hope  that  even  then 
some  one  might  be  found  who 
wouul  erect  over  his  remains  an 
humble  stone,  and  thereon  this 
epitaph,  "He  u>as  faithful ^  The 
wave  ot  madness  quickly  passed, 
and  Governor  Seward  found  that 
he  had  been  only  at  the  beginning  of  his  fame,  his  popularity,  and  his  useful- 
ness, but  the  simple  epitaph  for  which  he  that  day  expressed  a  desire  is  fitly 
inscribed  upon  his  monument  in  the  cemetery  at  Auburn. 


\V;i.I.IA.M    lAVAKI     l.l.ADSlilM;, 


PS^^ff^l^W 

ilRPPIRISHHI 

H^^I^^^H 

.A'A^£«, 

HBRHH 

I^^^^^^^H 

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I^^I^^BHh^bh 

BHK'I^  , 

^^mk^^H^H 

aS^^ '  >"' 

IPS^BH 

*    rf^irri^^^l 

M^S^^H 

^^^s'*'      '  ^ 

^^n^^  <     At 

i.-    %^Bn^H| 

f^     ^T^^^Bfl^^^^^H 

^■■^p 

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P''"'      -^1 

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BiEk!«.      s^  "^^B^^M 

It    w  ■"       i    -^^^ 

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^^^EMbfiii^aB^*            .^^H 

flW^SnTl^™^ 

1 

rHAKI.ES    Sl'MNF.R. 

264 


CHARLES  SUMNER, 

THE    ORBAT    .\n\-OCATh:    OK     KKBKUOM. 


AY,  in  lofty  madness,  that  you  own  the  sun,  the  stars, 
the  moon:  but  do  not  say  tliat  you  own  a  man,  en- 
dowed with  soul  to  live  immortal,  when  sun  and  moon 
and  stars  have  passetl  away.  " 

Such  words  are  now  only  remarkahlt;  for   their 
beauty  ;  the  truth  they  convey  has  come  to  be  axiom- 
atic ;  shivery  has  ceased  to  be  a  ch'batable  (jueslion  ; 
%  M'     "^^^ii^^    /''  but  when  they  w(,M-c  utt(M-ed  they  w(;re  almost  treason, 

1   W,%g^        ,,i-^^       and  were  sufficient  to  brin<;-  dcjwn    upon    the   speaker   tht; 

concentrated  hatred  of  a  whole  section  of  our  country,  and 

the  expression  of  such  sentiments  cut  him  off  from  sympathy 

with  those  who   reo^arded  themselves  as  the  best  people  of  his 

native  city,  and  closed  to  him  social  circles  of  which  he  had  bei.-n  a  proud  and 

honored  member. 

We  Americans  hold  in  especial  honor  those  of  our  j^reat  men  who,  like 
Lincoln,  (Irant,  (jarfield,  and  a  host  of  others,  have  attainetl  their  eminence  with- 
out the  assistance  of  inherited  wealth  or  culture,  and  by  their  own  unaided  exer- 
tions. We  almost  come  to  think  that  in  our  country  such  "  self-made  men  " 
possess  a  monopoly  of  t^^reatness.  To  this  idea  there  are  many  contradictions, 
but  none  more  complete  or  more  strikin^^  thaii  is  to  be  found  in  the  life  and 
works  of  Charles  .Sumner.  His  ancestors,  indeed,  were  farmers,  and  his  mother 
was  a  tailoress  ;  but  the  .Sumners  had  for  ^-enerations  taken  a  more  or  less  promi- 
nent part  in  public  affairs,  holdinL!;-  a  hit^h  place  in  the  esteem  of  the  community. 
They  shared  the;  Xew  luis^land  respect  for  cultur(\  father  and  son  for  at  least 
three  o;en(!rations  pursuing'  their  studies  at  Harvard  ;  and  this  tyi)ical  rei)resen- 
tative  of  Massachusetts  o^rew  to  manhood,  and  took  his  place  among  the  famous 
men  of  his  time,  without  that  pinch  of  poverty  which  we  are  rather  prone  to 
think  a  necessary  spur. 

He  was  the  eldest  of  nine  children,  received  his  preliminary  education  at 
the  famous  Boston  Latin  School,  and  entered  Harvard  at  the  age  of  fifteen,  and 

265 


16 


266  Cff.lRUiS  SUMXRR. 

his  mother  coiiUl  well  boast  that  "  Charles,  \vlu;n  a  boy,  was  a  good  scholar  and 
always  diligcMit  in  his  studies." 

At  c(ille<^fe,  his  habits  were  quiet,  and  his  tiiiK;  almost  entirely  devoted  to 
study,  though  th<,'  ranL,fe  of  his  interest  was  so  witU:  as  to  inlerlen;  to  some  extent 
with  th(;  r(;([uired  work,  and  he  never  took  very  high  rank  in  his  class.  1  ie  had 
few  intimate  friends,  though  he  enjoyed  social  life  ;  and  it  is  typical  of  the  man 
that  in  college  discussions  and  literary  work  he  always  took  the  serious,  tlu; 
earnest  point  of  view.  The  boy  was  father  to  the  man  ;  and  impurity  of  speech 
or  conduct  was  Impossible  to  him  thcMi  as  always. 

After  leaving  college  he  s|)ent  a  year  in  further  reading  and  study,  slowly 
making  up  his  mind  to  enter  the  profession  of  law.  In  his  professional  studies 
Sumntjr  tlistinguishetl  hims(;lf  by  the  thoroughness  of  his  reading  and  the 
accuracy  and  wide  range;  of  th(;  knowletlgc;  thus  accjuired,  though  his  deNotion 
was  ratlu'r  to  the  principles  and  philosophy  of  the  law  than  to  the  knowledge 
necessary  for  its  practice,  [lis  association  with  the  famous  Judge  Story  at  this 
periotl  did  much  to  develop  this  tenilency.  and  he  i)lanned  for  himself  a  career 
much  like  that  of  his  lH;lf)ved  friimd  and  instructor,  which,  as  is  so  frecpiently 
true  of  youthful  programs,  the  force  of  circumstances  compelled  him  to  abandon 
for  a  course  which  led,  by  other  paths,  to  honors  even  higher  than  thost:  he 
coveted. 

He  began  the  practice  of  law  in  Uoston,  and  devoted  himself  earnestly  to 
it.  Many  of  its  i)hases  wcn-e  not  congenial  to  him,  but  he  accepted  any  honor- 
able work  in  the  line  of  his  profession,  drawing  up  papers,  taking  testimony  as 
commissioner,  assisting  as  junior  counsel  in  some  important  cases,  and,  as  he 
once  laughingly  told  a  friend,  even  found  it  within  the  line  of  his  professional 
duty  to  write  a  love  letter  for  an  illiterate  client, — a  letter  so  tenderly  e.xpressed 
as  to  tlraw  tears  from  the  eyes  of  the  lovelorn  swain,  though  we  arc  not  informed 
of  its  effect  upon  the  fair  object  of  his  affections. 

He  early  began  to  draw  around  him  a  circle  of  closely-attached  friends, — 
those  who  already  filled  [)laces  of  large  usefulness,  and  many  of  whose  names 
have  since  become  housi^hold  words.  He  was  intimately  associated  with 
Judge  .Story  and  Professor  ("jr(?enU;af  reporting  the  judicial  decisions  of  the 
former,  assisting  both  in  the  preparation  of  their  books,  and  taking  their  places 
in  the  conduct  of  the  Harvard  Law  School.  He  was  one  of  the  editors  of  the 
'jurist,  to  whicli  Ik;  contributed  many  articles  on  legal  topics  of  importance, 
and  article's  by  him  were  occasionally  found  in  the  pages  of  the  Norllt  Auicri- 
ca)i  Ju'r/cai  and  other  leading  periodicals.  He  greatly  enjoyed  social  inter- 
course, and  for  many  years  "  The  Imvc  of  Clubs,"  an  informal  organization 
composed  of  Sumner,  his  partner,  Millard,  Longfellow,  I'elton,  afterward 
president  of  Harvard,  and  Henry  R.  Cleveland,  used  to  meet  almost  weekly 
for  discussion  and  the  enjoyment  of  their  close  and  unusual   fellowship.     He 


Ills  J'LS/r  TO  liUKOPE.  267 

counted  amonuj  his  friciuls  I'Vancis  Li«;l)cr,  Chancellor  Kent,  Chief  Justice 
Marshall,  Choate,  Clay,  CalliDiiii,  Webster;  ctviTy  one  acknou  led^^ed  his  learninij^. 
his  ability,  i:\cry  ont;  prophesied  j^reat  thinirs  of  hini  and  for  him  ;  but  his  law 
practice  was  not  larj^e,  ami  tlur  occasion  seemed  lacking  which  should  arouse 
his  enthusiasm  and  call  forth  his  ent^jj^ies. 

insiiNci  isiii:ii  Ki:(i:n'io\   i\   i:i  kupK. 

He  had  loii!^  desired  to  visit  l'luro|)e,  anil  in  December,  1S37,  he  s;iil(;d  for 
Havre,  lie  spent  three  years  in  I'rance,  Ciermany,  Italy,  and  (ireat  Britain, 
borrowing;  the  five  thousand  dollars  which  h(;  expiMideil  in  this  time.  In  branci:, 
Italy,  and  (iermany  he  applied  himself  with  enthusiasm,  first,  to  tlu;  study  of  the 
lanL;ua!..,re  and  lite-rature,  and  then  of  society,  and  especially  of  the  law  and  its 
administration.  In  I'^nt^land  he  was  accordc-d  a  reception  the  like  of  whi.'h  no 
othi;r  American,  previously  unknown  abroad,  has  proljably  enjoyed.  Letti;rs 
from  ludi^-e  Story  and  other  distinL,aiished  Americans  o[)en('d  the  way,  and  his 
^reat  and  extensive  learnini;-,  p(*rsonal  dit^nity,  and  hi^h  character,  with  his 
intense  interest  in  all  the  phases  of  lui<.,dish  life,  and  particularly  in  the  adminis- 
tration of  Mnnlish  law,  attract^^d  first  the  notice;,  and  then  tlu;  friendship  of  the 
most  emincMit  men,  who  vii'd  with  each  other  in  showing'  him  attention  and  in 
openinLj  to  him  opportunities  for  seeinjj^  and  knowintj;-  everybody  and  e\-erythin!^ 
worth  seeing-  and  knowiuL,''.  I  he  ten  months  that  he  spent  in  I'JiL^laml  were 
filled  with  calls  and  visits,  receptions,  breakfasts,  dinners,  ami  Ijalls.  He  visited 
at  their  country  seats  Hrout^ham,  .Sydney  Smith,  Jeffrey  :  saw  Wordsworth  and 
Carlyle  at  their  own  residences  ;  constantly  met  Macaulay,  I  iallam,  I  larriet 
Martineau,  Lockhart,  "  P)arry  Cornwall;"  spent  a  day  at  Windsor  Castle,  the 
guest  of  the  household,  and  jiartook  of  the  Lord  Mayor's  bancpiet  at  Cuildhall, 
owing  his  invitation  to  Lord  Denman,  and  being  conveyt-d  thitlu;r  b)-  Sir 
Frederick  Pollock  in  his  carriage.  He  writes,  December  5,  iSj;S:  "  1  o-night 
my  invitations  w(.-re  to  dinner  at  Ikougham's,  Sir  Robert  Inglis's,  Mr.  lustice 
Littledal(;'s,  ami  Mr.  Kenyon's  :  at  the  latter  place  to  meet  Rogers  and  .Southc;y. 
I  dined  with  Brougham,  as  his  invitation  came  fu'st.  To-morrow  I  tiiiu;  with  the 
Political  b'conomy  Club,  where  I  shall  meet  Senior,  John  Mill,  McCulloch, 
S[)ring  Rice,  Lord  Lanstlowne,  (;tc.  On  the  next  day  I  commence  my  pilgrim- 
age to  Oxford,  where  I  pass  four  days,  and  those  four  da\s  are  engaged  :  first, 
to  Sir  Charles  \''aughan,  at  .All  .Souls  ;  second,  to  nn-  friend  Ingham,  M.  P..  at 
Oriel  ;  third,  to  Dr.  Hampden,  at  Christ  Church  :  fourth,  to  Wortley,  at  Merton. 
I  then  go  to  Cambridge,  where  my  first  day  is  engaged  to  Whewell,  etc."  He 
heard  the  Queen's  speech  at  the  opening  of  ParlianuMit,  having  "  p(a"ha])s  the 
best  place  occupied  by  a  person  not  in  court  ilress,"  antl  standing  immediately 
in  front  of  Princes  Louis  Bonaparte;  and  in  the  evening,  in  the  House  of  Lords, 
where   Lord   Holland  had  placed  him  on  the  steps  of  the  throne,  he  listened 


2r.s  CH.iKiJis  s('.u.\7:a'. 

while  th(!  Lonl  L'iKiiKcllor  n-.u!  the  sptcili  to  tin-  I  loiist;,  and  for  two  hours  and 
a  half  to  liroii^hain's  masirrly  ami  cIikiuciu  spci^ch,  "the  brimful  house  iiit(-'r- 
ruptiiit;-  him  with  \()cifen)u-^  apidauM-,  .ii.ul  oKl  W'lJliiij^ton  noililiu^f  his  head  and 
adtliuL;  his  cheer.  " 

I  le  wrote  lo  Jui1l;('  Story  sketches  l)ased  u|)()n  personal  ac(|uaintance  of  all 
tile  UnuHiil;  b.u'risters  in  I'.n^land,  and  of  the  judges  of  the  ilifferent  courts, 
having-  known  them  intimately  not  only  in  London,  hut  ui)on  the  different 
circuits.  I  le  was  tri'(|uently  invited  to  sit  with  the  judt^t's,  usually  preferring"  to 
he  in  the  froiu  row  ot  h.uM'isters  :  and  one  reason  fortius  remarkable  courtesy 
may  be  ira'cd  in  the  wonderhil  knowleili^e  he  <lisplayed  of  I'.iinlish  as  well  as 
American  jurisprudiMice.  1  his  may  be  illustrated  by  an  incident  :  (  )n  one  occa- 
sion, in  Westminster  I  lall,  durini,^  tin;  proi^^ress  of  a  trial,  a  point  arose;  for 
which  no  precedcMit  occurred  to  tin;  Lord  Chief  justice,  who  asked  .Sumner 
whether  it  was  covtne'tl  by  any  .\merican  decisions.  "  Xo,  your  lordship,"  he 
replied,  "but  this  point  has  been  decidc-d  in  your  lortlship's  own  court,"  men- 
tioninu;  the  casi-. 

.Sumner  returned  to  America  in  1.S40,  not  yet  thirty  yctars  of  ag'e,  but 
possessed  of  an  acouaintanci?  with  leadint;  nien  in  luiLilaiid,  brance,  (lermany, 
and  Italy,  with  an  intimate;  knowledj^n.' of  tin;  social  lih;  and  |)olitical  condition  of 
those  countries,  which  has  probabK'  never  been  ac(|uired  by  any  other  .\mericai> 
in  the  same  leiii^lh  of  time  or  at  his  time;  of  life,  and  which  was  no  sm.ill  |)art  of 
his  preparation  hjr  the  work  hi;  was  to  tlo.  I  )urinL;  the  next  fixe;  years  he 
devoi.ed  himself  to  the  law,  without  succeediniL,^  in  buiidiiiL,''  up  an  extensive 
practice,  but  taking'  a  leailiiii:,^  part  in  every  public  movement  in  behalf  of  educa- 
tion, prison  reform,  etc.,  occasionalK'  writing'  for  the  North  .biicricnii  /KrriciL.' 
and  fre(|uentl\'  for  professional  journals,  and  becoming  more  antl  more  dee[)ly 
interestt-'d  in  th(;  great  wartare  against  slavt-ry. 

okAIKiNS    AHAINST    W.\K    AND    SIA\i;kV. 

I'^arlv  in  1S45  he  was  in\ited  to  delivtM'  tiie  annual  b'ourth  of  July  oration 
in  l)Oston.  This  was  the  first  occasion  on  which  he  spoke  to  a  large;  popular 
audience,  and  lie  prejtared  for  it  his  address  upon  "The  True;  (irandeur  of 
Nations."  It  marked  him  at  once  as  a  public  man,  and  is  more  widely  known 
than  any  of  his  other  writings.  Its  denunci  -.ticjn  of  the;  war  s[)irit  was  exceed- 
ingly offensive;  to  a  large  portion  of  his  audience-,  anel  to  me)st  men  in  e^fhcial 
life;  but  its  publication  bre)ught  him  a  showe-r  e)f  ailmiring  anel  congratulate)ry 
letters  fre)m  many  parts  of  tlie  country  ind  fre)m  I'jiglanel.  Althe)ugh  all 
cannot  agre;e;  e-ntirely  with  its  i(inchisie)ns,  many  the)usands  of  co[>ies  have  been 
solel,  .ind  it  still  holels  its  place;  as  an  American  classic. 

During  th<;  following  live;  years  he  became  more  deeply  absorbed  in  the 
slavery  e|ue'stie)n,  and  in  1850  adelre-ssed  the  meeting  in   b^aneuil   Mall,  called  to 


EUiCnOX  TO   lllh:  SI'.SATE. 


•6,, 


prot(.'st  ai^ainst  the  l'"iiL,ntiv(;  Sl;i\i'  Law.  iiunnlmiii;,;  in  his  spci'ch  an  allusion  to 
a  paiiUiilLj.  by  a  lamoiis  \'nictiaii  artist,  of  "Saint  Mark  (li-^cciidiiiL;  troin  tin: 
skicjs  in  hcadlonj^^  fury  "  and  hrcakinL,^  "th<'  nianarlcs  of  a  sla\f  in  tin-  \(ry  prcs- 
enciM)f  the  judi^c  who  decreed  liis  fate."  "Should  Massaciuiseits,"  exclaimt  d  tlu; 
orator,  "  hen-altcir  in  an  <-vil  hour  ln'  desecrated  hy  any  such  decree,  nia\' the 
^(jod  l^vaiii^^elist  once  inor(-'  d(;scend  with  \aliant  arm  to  l)reak  the  uiauacles  of 
the  slave."  A  c(»|)y  of  the  paintini^'  used  afterward  to  haii;^  in  Mr.  Siunner's 
dinini,f-room,  and  he  was  accustomed  to  s,iy,  "That  iiicture  made  me  senator." 
Just  at  this  juncture  it  hecame  possible  for  th(;  anti-slavery  men  ot  Massachu- 
setts to  form  a  coalition  which 
sent  Sumner  to  the  I  nited  Stat(;s 
Senate,  a  ri-sult  due  in  part  to 
the  felicity  of  this  ad<lress,  hut  in 
far  L;r<':iler  measure  to  tln'  untlr- 
\\v^  eneri^y,  political  foresight, 
and  dii)lomatic  skill  of  1  lenry 
Wilson. 

•SuuuK'r  had  never  taken  an 
active  part  in  political  matt(,'rs, 
and  had  nev(;r  filled  a  public 
oftice  ;  and  he  iMitered  the  Senate 
at  a  time  when  many  leaders  of 
thou::j[ht  would  have  ai;rei;tl  with 
Senator  Uenton.  who  said  to  him, 
"  \'ou  come  upon  the  sta^e  too 
late,  sir;  the  i..;reat  issues  are  all 
setthid."  Thri'e  other  senators, 
Seward,  Chase,  ami  llale,  w('re 
united  in  purpose  with  Sumner, 
and  were  clestiniHl  to  take  a  lar^*^ 
part  in  proving"  that  tlie  "  ^reat 
issue"   of  slav(n'y  had   not  been 

"  settled  "  by  the  tlishonest   com|)romises  of  the    pre\ious   d(vad('s.      .Sumnc^r's 
Tttitude  is  well  indicated   by  Theodore   I'arker's   remark   in   cont;ratulatinL;  him 
I)on  his  election  :   "You  once  told  me  \ou  were  not  in  [)olitics,  but  in  morals  ; 
-ow  I  hope  you  will  show  morals  in  politics." 

I  lis  impatient  constituents  W('re  disappointed  and  dissatisfied  that  he  did 
not  find  an  early  opi)ortunity  to  make;  in  the  Senate  a  threat  s])eech  on  the 
slavery  ([uestion.  The  sessit^n  was  almost  closing'  wIkmi  he;  tuially  securc:d  the 
opportunity,  and  then  he  spoke  for  nearly  ftnir  hours  in  support  of  the  doctrin*;, 
entirely  new  in  Congress,  that  freedom  was   national,  and  slavery   "in  every 


I  V.  \MCI  I\    I'llRCF. 


270  ClIARLJiS  SUMNER. 

rcsptxt  sectional."  "This  is  the  tirst  time  in  the  course  of  mv  life."  was  the 
remark  of  a  uroniinent  senator,  "  tliat  1  ha\-e  listened  to  the  whole  of  an  aboli- 
tion s|)<;ech.  1  did  not  know  it  was  i)ossil)le  that  1  could  endure  a  speech  for  over 
three  hours  upon  the  snhiect  of  the  abolition  ot  slavery.  Hut  this  oration  of  the 
senator  tVoni  Massachusetts  lias  b('en  so  handsomely  (Mnbc:llishetl  with  po(;try, 
both  Latin  and  I'LnL;lish.  so  full  of  classical  allusions  and  rht'torical  lloiu'ishes,  a^- 
to  make  it  mucli  more  palatable  than  I  su[)|)ose(l  it  could  ha\'e  been  made." 

.At  the  next  session  of  Congress  Ije^an  the-  ::;r(.'at  parliamentary  strm^^j^le 
over  the  Kansas-Xebraska  (piestion,  which  was  to  end  onl\'  bv  mer^iiiL;'  into  the 
war  of  the  rebellion.  The  turmoil  in  Compress  and  throughout  the  countrv  was 
of  a  character  almost  inconceivable  in  these  cjuieter  timers.  Tlu;  enforcement 
of  the  Fuij^itive  .Slave  law  was  exasi)erating  the  North,  and  resistance  to  it  drove 
the  pro-slavery  men  fairly  mad. 

"I'lll-:    CKIMl",    ACAIX.-.r    KANSAS." 

Vor  a  considerable  time  .Sumner  held  no  ])lace  on  any  committee  of  the 
Senate,  that  body  havim.^  taken  the  extraordinary  course  of  voting'  that  he  "  wa.s 
outside  any  healthy  political  or^'anization,"  and  was  not,  therefore,  entitled  to 
share  in  its  councils.  This  was  due  to  his  fearless  attituile,  his  ]iersistence.  and 
the  unassailable  loi^ic  of  his  many  speeches  u])on  tlu;  L,n'eat  topic  of  the  chu . 
He  was  probably  the  first  t^^rcat  Xortherner  who  could  successfully  op[)ose  the 
hot,  abusive  speech  of  the  Southern  advocates  of  slavery.  1  lis  coolness,  his  s^reat 
learning-,  his  senre  of  superiority,  and  his  knowledi^e  of  his  own  hii^h  purpose, 
enabled  him  to  throw  into  his  worils  and  into  his  manner  an  ovcn'whelminL^-  con- 
tem[)t  ami  scorn  which  heattxl  the  furnace  of  .Southern  hatretl  sinen  times 
hotter  vxvn  than  it  was  wont  to  be  heated.  In  this  sort  ot  I'xcited  discussion  the 
time  Avent  on,  brin^iuL^-  the  crisis  in  1856.  In  May  of  that  year  .Sumner  spoke 
for  two  days  upon  "  Tht;  Crime  ay'ainst  Kansas."  The  speech  has  been  calU;d 
"the  most  sij^mal  combination  of  oratorical  sph-ndor  that  has  <;ver  lieen  wit- 
nesstxl  in  that  hall,  '  while  an  opponent  declared  it  "the  most  un-.American  anJ 
unpatriotic  that  e\-er  ignited  on  the  i-ars  of  tlie  .Senate."  The  s|)eech  was  in  large- 
part  devoted  to  a  castigation  of  .Senator  Ihitler  of  .South  Carolina,  whose  argu- 
ments it  refuted,  and  whom  th(^  speaker  scornfully  alluded  to  in  many  offensive 
figures  and  illustrations.  The  .Southerners  were;  dri\-en  to  desperation.  'Ihey 
had  put  .Sumner  outside  the  pale  of  gentlemen,  and  therefore  could  not  chal- 
lenge him.  and  it  was  left  for  Treston  llrooks,  a  relative  of  Senator  Ihitler  and 
a  iiKMiiber  of  the  I  louse  ot  Representatives,  to  d(Ais(  a  plan  tor  cliastising 
him.  Accompanied  bv  a  number  of  tViends.  he  entered  the  Senate  chamber, 
approachetl  .Sumner,  who  was  writing  at  his  desk,  and,  with  a  gutta-percha 
cane,  struck  him  blow  alter  blow^  upon  the  head  1  lis  position  at  his  desk 
prevented  resistance  or  escape,  and  Brooks  was  a.jle  to  sately  walk  away,  leav- 


RETL'RN  A1-T/:R  Tllli  IIROOKS  ASSAV!.!'. 


\\v^  his  victim  lyiiii,^  senseless  .'uk 


ilooily  n|i('n  the  lloor.  '1  In;  deed  aroused 
universal  horror  in  the  North,  and  it  is  one  of  the  astonishing;'  tacts  of  the  time 
that  it  stiemeil  to  excite  universal  commendation  in  ihr  South,  lirooks  became 
a  social  lion,  and  his  praist;  tilled  th(t  Southern  nc\vspa[)ers.  llis  injuries 
necessitated  Sumn(;r's  absence  trom  the;  Senate  for  tour  years,  during;"  which 
tim('  the  Massachusetts  Leiy^islaturc;  allowed  his  seat  in  the;  Senate  to  remain 
unlilled.  lit;  visited  liurope  twice,  gradually  recoveriuL^-  his  strength  attt;r 
heroic  treatment  at  the  hands  of  1  )r.  lirown-.Seciuard.  HuriuL;  the  second  of 
these;  European  journeys  he  be^an  the  c(»ll(;ction  of  bric-a-brac,  which  became 
a  passion  with  him,  and  which  con\erted  his  Washington  residence  into  a  veM'i- 
tabk;  muscnmi  of  the  tine  arts. 

Mr.  Sumner's  return  to  the  Senate  was  marked  by  a  ,L;reat  s[)(!ech  uijon  the 
same    (general     subject 


as  that  which  resulted 
in  his  j)rolono;'ed  ab- 
sence, the'  admission  of 
Kansas,  though  the 
pro|)osition  now  was  to 
admit  h(.'r  as  a  free 
State,  lie  took  an  ac- 
tive part  in  the  Lincoln 
and  1  lamlin  campaign, 
but  was  greatly  disa[)- 
pointed  that  th(;  wv.w 
administration  ditl  not 
assume  a  more  ratlical 
position  upon  the  sub- 
jt!ct  of  sla\ery,  though 
he  took  a  larjj^e  share  in 
p(Tf(;ctinLi;  every  i;;-reat  measure  not  only  then,  but  throuj^hout  the  war.  "It  was 
his  [)art  to  discover'  constitutional  authorit\'  and  h-^al  or  political  precedent,  and 
his  mission  to  keep  the  popular  luart  tu'ed  with  such  enthusiasm  as  would  fur- 
nish a  strong  support  to  the  government."  lb;  was  made;  chairman  of  the;  S(;nate 
Committee  on  b'oreign  Affairs,  a  i)osition  for  whicli  his  knowledge  of  I^uropean 
matters  and  his  e.xtraordinary  familiarity  with  constitutional  history  peculiarly 
fitted  him,  and  in  which  he  rendered  distinguished  service,  l)t;ing  in  constant 
consultation  with  Lincoln  and  .Si;\vard,  and  freepiently  making  use  of  his  per- 
sonal friendship  with  I'^nglish  and  brench  statesmen. 

Throughout  the  war  Lincoln  was  too  slow  and  .Seward  too  cautious  for  the 
enthusiastic  senator,  who  could  not  s(;(;  any  i;xpedi(;ncy  or  propriety  in  any 
course  except  that  outlined  by  what  he  believeil  absejlute  right,      lie  was  coiv 


TIIK    \AC\Nr    SKAI'    IN     I'll  I',    si       \TK,    IiRAI'I.H    P 


:l  AiK. 


2/2  CHARLES  SCMMiR. 

tinually  f)|)[)o.s('(l  to  tlic  measures  atlopU'd  concerning-  lh(;  nei^ro  ami  reconstruc- 
tioii,  antl  Ireqiiently  to  the  foreign  policy  ;  but,  tortunat(;l\-  for  the  nation,  the 
President  and  his  ^reat  minister  kn('\v  how  to  deal  with  th(;  n(j  less  ^reat 
chairman,  and  tlu^y  constantly  succcteded  in  makini^-  use  of  his  vast  resources 
without  antai^onizinL;-  him, — in  fact,  allowiiiL;'  him  to  believe,  in  many  cases, 
that  they  were  atloptiuL;  his  policy  aiid  w(.'rc;  ^oxerneel  1)\'  his  ad\icc!.  lie  was, 
iiideed,  consulted  at  ev(,'ry  step,  but  he  was  so  s(;nsitive  of  tiMnpcM',  and  so 
impatient  ot  opposition,  or  (-ven  of  a  difference  of  opinion,  that  it  recpiired  the 
;,;reatest  tact  lor  those  who  were  responsil)le  in  the  conduct  of  affairs  to  kee|) 
him  loyally  workiiiL;'  with  them,  "  1  )on't  I  L;(;t  alonu;'  well  with  SumiK;r  ?  "  asked 
Lincoln  ;  "  h(^  thinks  he  manages  in(?."  .So  poor  an  opinion  did  Sumner  have 
ot  the  L;reat  man  whom  he  so  thoroughly  misunderstood  that  he  joined  in  the 
intriL;ue  to  make;  Chase  the  Republican  candidate  for  President  in  i  S64,  and  is 
e\'en  said  to  have'  wished  that  tlu;  ticket,  Lincoln  and  lohnson,  mi^ht  have  Ix-en 
reversetl,  and  |ohnson  made;  President.  I  low  grievous  was  his  mistake  he  was 
to  learn. 

Lincoln  and  Sumner  diltered  vi^ry  radically  as  to  pro[)tn'  measures  for  the 
reconstruction  of  the  Southern  .States.  .So  wide  was  this  difference,  that  Sumner 
was  willing'  to  tlefeat  in  the  last  days  of  the  session,  by  tin;  objectionable 
method  of  resolutely  talking-  on  until  it  was  withdrawn,  a  bill  for  re-ori^anizini,'' 
the  Louisiana  government  in  which  Lincoln  was  much  interested.  It  was 
generally  reported  that  this  action  hail  caused  a  breach  of  fri(;ndly  relations 
between  them,  something-  which  Sumner's  touchy  nature  would  have  rendereil 
una\oidable  had  he  been  dealint,''  with  one  less  witling-  to  sink  all  considerations 
of  self  ill  labor  for  the  i^eneral  i^^rood.  The  storlt.'s  of  the  estran^'enient  were 
definitely  contratlicted  by  their  aijpearini;;'  to«^-ethc;r  at  the  inaugural  ball,  Sumner 
going  at  the  jjerscjnal  in\itation  of  the  President. 

AI'I'I.R     rill'.    WAR. 

After  the  assassination  of  the  President,  Sumner's  confidence  in  Johnson 
soon  gave  way  to  suspicion  and  distrust,  and  so  fully  was  this  ieeling-  recipro- 
cated that  the  President  describetl  Davis,  Toombs,  .Slidell,  Thaddeus  Stevens, 
Wendell  Phillips,  and  .Sumner  as  e(|ually  their  country's  enemit^s.  The  cjuarrel 
between  Congress  and  the  L.xecutivc  hastened  to  its  culmination.  .Secretary 
Stanton  was  suspended  bv  the  President  and  n.'instated  b}'  the  .Senate,  again 
ordered  to  vacate,  and  refiisetl  to  obey.  .Sumner's  attitutle  in  this  matter,  as 
well  as  the  terse  style  of  his  informal  c(jrrespondence,  is  well  illustrated  by  his 
note : — 

Mv  Dear  Staxtox, — .Stick  ! 

L\er  sincerely  }ours, 

C.  S. 


IirS  C(HKS/i  /X  ()/V'().s777('.V. 


^7i 


Mc  ;icti\(;ly  l;i\()n-(l  llu;  iinpcachiiU'iU  of  Inhnson,  ;uk1  in  tlic  Sc;n;U';,  sitlini:; 
as  a  hi^h  court  of  jiKl^mciit,  hiborcd  earnestly  tor  a  verdict  of  "  i;uilt\-,"  and 
hotly  rcsent('d  the  action  ot"  tliosc-  Re])ul)licans  who  pi  evented,  1)\-  a  siiv^K;  \()te, 
such  a  conclusion.  Hut  his  relations  with  (irant  were  hardl\-  more  satislactcM'y 
than  with  Johnson.  l'"e\v  niei.  ha\e,  as  Lincoln  had,  the  power  of  un<IersiandinL,^ 
and  sympathizing- with  a  \ery  wide  ran^^c  of  dilferinL;-  characters,  and  ( irant  and 
Sumner  utt(;rly  failed  to  comprehend  each  other's  siuL^leness  of  mind  and  ri^'ht- 
ness  ol  pur|)ose.  .So  complete  ditl  this  misundcrstandiiv^-  become  that,  by  the 
time  our  relations  with  I'jiL^iand  were  adjustt;d  and  the  1  ligh  Joint  Commission 
bejran  its  sittings  in  W'ashiii;^ ton, 
there  was  no  longer  an\'  li  ter- 
coLU'se  between  the  President  or 
Secretary  I'ish  and  Mr.  .Sumner, 
and  the  deposing-  of  tin-  latter 
from  his  position  as  chairman  of 
the  Committee  on  bOreii^^ii  Atfairs 
seemed,  at  the  opening-  of  the 
ne.xt  Con_i,;ress,  a  necessity 

In  perfecting'  the  measure's 
concernin;^"  reconstruction  and 
the  altered  position  of  the  nei^ro 
Mr.  Sumner  took  a  le.ulini;-  part. 
He  was  stronn'K'  op|)osed  to  the 
thirteenth  and  fourteenth  amend- 
ments to  the  C(Mistitution.  u])on 
the  ground  that  they  were  un- 
necessary, though  he  fmally 
chanL;'ed  liis  position  sufficiently 
to  give  them  a  lukewarm  sup- 
port. The  fifteenth  amendment, 
i;uaranteein^-  ecpial  rights  to  all 
iiien    without    distinction,    mioht 

seem  to  be  the  cc:)nsumniation  of  his  life's  work,  but  he  opposed    it   upon  the 
same  orround  as  the  others,  and  fin.dK-  xoiid  against  it. 

/\ft(;r  the  close  of  the  war,  Mr.  .Sumner  turned  his  .attention  to  tlie  securincj 
of  civil  rights  to  the;  freed  and  recently  enfranchised  negroes.  Measures  tor  this 
purpose  lu;  adv'ocated  on  .all  occasions,  keeping;'  the  subiect  in  mind  until  the 
very  last,  wluai  almost  his  (hiiiL;- speech  was  adilresseil  to  jud^e  lloar:  "  I  )o 
not  U;t  the  Civil  Rights  Hill  fail."  I'pon  the  openiii'^-  of  the  I'Orty  second  Con- 
gress, he  offert'tl  a  resolution  dinnitin^  "that  the  names  of  battles  with  fellow- 
citizens  shall  not  be  continued  in  the  .\rmy  Rej^isti'r  or  placed  on  tint  reginu'ntal 


I.WIKS    H 


\NA.N. 


274  CHARLES  SUMNER. 

colors  of  th(j  Liiitcul  States."  'Ihis  proposition  greatly  ofiendcd  a  lar<;c;  nunihcr 
of  his  friends,  antl  called  forth  tlu;  formal  censure  of  the  Massachusetts  Legis- 
lature, much  to  his  mortitication.  Ihe  resolution  was  doubtless  instii^ated,  as 
was  sui^'^ested  in  llu;  ])rcaml)]e,  mainly  by  a  dc^sirc;  to  efface  the  nuMiiory  of  jjast 
differences  and  to  remove  I'very  occasion  f(3r  harsh  teijlini;'.  The  action  of  the 
Lei^islatiu'e  was,  two  years  later,  "rescinded  and  annulled,"  and  information  of 
diis  fact  rc.'ached  Mr.  Sumner  just  in  time  to  s(H)the  th(^  last  days  of  his  life. 
He  died  in  WashinL^ton,  of  heart  disease,  March  i  i,  1S74. 

It  remains  to  adtl  a  lew  words  as  to  souk;  pc'rsonal  facts.  Charles  Sumner 
united  to  those  ([ualities  of  minci  and  heart  which  ukuK;  him  so  intensely  loved 
by  his  friends  and  so  conspicuously  useful  as  a  public  servant,  a  personal  appear- 
ance and  carriage  which  added  materially  to  his  attractiveness  and  t^ave 
additional  force  to  his  public  appearances.  lie  was  t)ver  six  feet  in  hcti^ht.  and 
of  commanilin!4'  prest!nce,  tlio;-nified,  j;rantlly  courteous,  uniformly  kind  in  his 
address.  With  this  he  combined  a  transparent  antl  simple-minded  vanity  and  a 
peculiar  lack  of  humor,  described  by  Dana  in  sayint^:  "Poor  Sumner,  he  can't 
take  a  joke  of  any  kind  ;  he  is  as  literal  as  a  Scotch  t;uideboard."  There  was 
also  in  his  constitution  a  peculiar  inability  to  reco^-nize  some  of  his  own  failings. 
He  always  rci^arded  himself  as  the  most  forj^ivini;-  and  the  most  moderate  of 
men,  and  used  in  \',\\.vx  years  to  ask  what  there  was  in  his  speech  of  1856  to 
excite  the  hostility  of  Senator  Butler's  friends, — a  speech  whose  bitter  sarcasm 
and  excoriating  laiijj^uage  couUl  not  but  cut  to  the  quick,  however  it  mi<;ht  be 
justified  by  the  facts.  Xo  man  was  ever  better  loved,  and  it  was  those  who 
knew  him  most  intimately  who  were  most  clos(;ly  attached  ;  but  his  married  life, 
which  benaii  only  in  1866,  when  he  was  rapiilly  approachin*;^  threescore  years, 
eiulured  less  than  a  year,  though  a  formal  divorce  was  not  obtained  until  six 
years  later. 

Hut  matters  purely  [)ersonal  concern  us  little.  Sumner  will  live  in  the 
public  mind  as  the  great  American  who  astounded  a  pro-slavery  Congress  by 
the  declaration  that  freedom  was  national,  slavery  sectional ;  as  one  who,  not 
so  much  counting  the  cost  as  absolutely  oblivious  to  it,  threw  into  his  advocacy 
of  the  cause  of  th(?  oppressed  an  erudition  which  laiil  under  tribute  the  litera- 
tures of  all  ages  anil  all  civilized  pi;oples,  a  knowledge  of  history,  and  an 
acquaintance  with  men  unequaled  among  his  contemporaries,  anil  a  personal 
force  and  commanding  ]M"esence  which  made  him  "  the  finest  specimen  of  a  man 
seen  in  Congress  since  Daniel  \\'ebst.i'r." 

I  lis  remains  were  escorted  to  lioston  by  the  customary  Congressiona! 
committee,  and  laid  in  the  licautiful  cemetery  of  Mount  Auburn.  "  His  undy 
ing  fame  the  Muse  of  History  had  already  taken  into  her  keeping." 


Giants  o""  A  aierTh,^ 


'-hi 


6£K 


ULYSSES  S.  GRANT, 

the;    HKKO    Ob"    THfc;    CIX'IIv    WAR. 

Hl"2  history  of  the  War  for  the;  l^iion  ou^ht  to  forevc^r  set  at 
rest  the  idea  that  the  clay  of  heroes  is  past — that  there 
are  no  longer  great  men  to  be  found  in  occasions  of  su- 
preme need.  Never  was  a  great  nation  st:emingly  more 
helpless  than  the  United  States  when  Lincoln  was  iiiaugu- 
ratetl.  Without  army  or  navy,  a  government  hont^yconibed 
with  treason  and  apparently  falling  to  pieces,  a  \\v.i\k  and 
nerveless  ailministration  giving  place  t(»  one.  made  up  of 
new  and  untried  men,  a  people  without  unity  of  mind  or  pur- 
pf)se,  and  not  knowing  whom  to  trust, — this  was  the  situa- 
tion which  loy.d  miMi  faced  with  sinking  iK-arts.  Vet  only 
ten  days  later,  when  the'  boom  (jf  guns  in  Charleston  harbor  (ichotxl  over  the 
North,  all  was  changed  as  in  the  twinkling  of  an  vyc.  At  the  call  of  the  new 
President  for  aid,  it  seemed  as  though  armed  men  sprang  from  the  ground. 
And  among  them  were  not  only  soldiers,  but  commanders, — the  men  who  were 
needed  to  organize;  and  drill  these  hosts,  to  convert  them  into  a  great  army,  and 
lead  them  on  to  victory. 

WIkmi  the  war  broke  out,  Ulysses  .S.  Grant  was  working  for  his  father  and 
brother,  who  carried  on  a  leather  and  saildlerv  business  in  Uialena,  lllinr  is.  1  lis 
life  had  been,  U])  to  that  time,  a  failure,  lulucated  at  West  Point,  he  had  gradu- 
ated with  a  rc'cord  not  {juite  up  to  the  average  of  his  class,  and  was  distin- 
guished only  as  a  fmc  horseman.      I  le  IkuI,  indeed,  won  credit  and  promotion  in 


278  ^/.l'.S-.S7;.S-  S.  GRAXT. 

the  Mexican  War;  but  in  1.S54  he  resigned  from  the  army,  with  a  record  not 
entirely  blameless,  and  wrnl  wilh  his  wife  and  two  childn-n  to  hi:r  former  homi; 
at  St.  Louis.  He  was  absolutely  penniless,  and  without  trade  or  profession. 
His  wife  had  received  from  her  father  a  farm  of  seventy  acres  and  three  slaves. 
To  this  farm  (irant  went  with  his  little  family.  He  worked  hard,  lie  raised 
wheat  and  potatoes,  and  cut  u[)  treses  into  cordwood.  and  tried  to  make  a 
livinL,^  sc^llinj^  the  produce;  (jf  th<;  farm  in  St.  Louis.  In  this  he  was  not  success 
ful.  H(;  then  tried  auctioneering-  and  collcctin;^  bills,  and  made  an  effort  in  the 
real  estaK-  business.  I'inally  he  went  to  (iaiena,  where  he  entered  his  father's 
store,  his  record  up  to  that  time  bein^'  one  of  vain  strui,''^le,  failure,  ami  i)overty. 
Such  was  the  man  who  was  suddenly  to  become  the  L,^reatest  of  the  I'nion  com- 
manders, and  to  be  regardful  by  the  .\merican  people  as  one  of  the  chief  instru- 
ments in  savini^r  the  lite  of  ilic  n.uion. 

Hut  occasion  does  not  form  a  man's  character  anew  :  it  simply  calls  out  the 
qualities  which  are;  in  him,  perhaps  unknown  or  unperceived.  It  is  not  hard 
now  to  see  in  the  acts  of  (irant's  youth  how  the  boy  was  "  father  of  the  man." 
When  only  twc^lvc;  years  okl  he  was  one  day  sent  with  a  team  into  the  woods  for 
a  load  of  loi^s,  which  were  to  be  loatled  on  the  trucks  by  the  lumb('rmen.  No 
men  were  to  be  lound  ;  nr\ crlhclcss,  by  usiuL,^  the  strength  ot  tlie  horses,  he 
succeeded  in  loading;'  the  1ol;s  himself.  When  he  returned,  his  father  ask(;d 
where  the  men  were.  "I  don't  know,  antl  1  don't  care."  said  the  plucky  boy  ; 
"I  got  the  load  without  them." 

In  such  acts  \\v.  get  a  glimpse  of  the  boldness,  tiie  readiness  of  resource, 
and  especially  tht;  dogged  determination,  which  afterward  made  him  such  a 
power  in  the  war.  "  Wherever  Grant  is,  I  have  noticed  that  things  move,"  said 
President  Lincoln.  When,  before  leaving  Missouri  for  the  Mexican  frontier, 
Grant  rode  to  the  home;  of  Miss  Julia  Dent,  four  miles  from  where  he  was 
stationed,  to  ask  her  hand  in  marriage,  he  had  to  cross  a  swollen  stream,  in 
which  his  uniform  was  thoroughly  soakcxl.  Bound  on  such  an  errand,  most  men 
would  have  turned  back  ;  but  Grant  rode  on,  borrowed  a  dry  suit  from  his 
future  brother-in-law,  and  accomplished  the  business  in  hand.  Well  might  his 
wife  say,  in  her  quaint  fashion,  "  Mr.  Grant  is  a  very  obstinate  man." 

i;ki;AKiN(;  ni;i'  of  thf.  war. 

On  April  I  5,  1S60,  th(>  telegraph  Hashed  o\er  the  coimtry  President  Lincoln's 
call  for  seventy-five  thousand  volunt(;ers.  That  evening  the  court-house  in 
Galena  was  packed  with  an  excited  crowd,  women  as  well  as  men.  Grant, 
being  known  as  a  West  Pointer,  was  calleil  upon  to  preside.  This  was  not  the 
kind  of  duty  for  which  he  was  prepared,  but,  he  says.  "  With  much  embarrass- 
ment and  some  prompting,  I  made  out  to  announce  the  object  of  the  meeting." 
X'olunteers  were  called  for,  a  company  was  raised  upon  the  spot,   and  the 


CAPTURE  OF  FORT  DOXEISOX.  -;<> 

offici-TS  voted  for.  Befori;  the  balloting-  b(.'L,^'Ul  (Inint  dccliiual  the  caittaincy, 
but  promised  to  help  all  he  could,  and  to  be  lound  in  the  service,  in  some 
position. 

hi  AufTList,  1 86 1,  Grant  was  made  a  brijj^adit.'r-L^eneral,  and  put  in  command 
of  the  district  of  Southeast  Missouri,  inchnlinL,'-  \\'(;stern  Kentucky  and  Cairo, 
Illinois,  a  point  of  i^reat  importance  at  the  junction  of  the  Mississippi  and  ( )hio 
rivers.  His  brst  battle  was  at  Belmont,  Missouri,  about  twenty  niil(;s  below 
Cairo,  which  he  won  after  four  hours'  hartl  fiohtinj;-.  After  tin;  battle  tin;  Con- 
federates received  reinforcements,  and  there  was  danj^er  that  (Irant's  troops 
would  be  cut  off  from  the  boats  by  which  they  had  come.  The  men  perc(nved 
the  situation,  and  e.xclaimed.  "  We  are  surrounded  !  " 

"  Well."  was  (irant's  characteristic  re|)ly,  "  we  must  cut  our  way  out,  then, 
as  we  cut  our  way  in."      And  they  tlid. 

Tin;  autumn  and  wint(;r  of  iS6i-'62  was  a  time  of  weary  waitinu-,  which 
severely  tried  the  spirit  of  the  nation,  impatient  for  action.  Attention  was  chi(;tly 
concentrated  upon  the  Potomac,  where  McClellan  was  or^ani/.inL,'^  and  drillinj4^ 
that  splendid  army  which  ancther  and  a  orreater  commander  was  to  lead  to  linal 
victory.  While  the  only  response  to  the  people's  urjj^ent  call,  "  ( )n  to  Rich- 
mond !  "  was  the  daily  r(;port,  "All  (piiet  on  the  Potomac,"  (Irant,  an  obscure 
and  almost  unknown  soldier,  was  pushing;-  forward  aij^ainst  l"\jrts  llenry  ami 
Donelson,  eleven  miles  apart,  on  the  Tennessee  and  the  Cumberland,  near 
where  these  rivers  cross  the  line  dividinjj;'  Kentucky  ami  Tennessee.  I  le  had 
obtained  from  his  commander,  Halleck,  a  reluctant  consent  to  his  plan  for 
attacking  these  important  posis  by  a  land  force,  co-operatinf^  at  the  same  time 
with  a  fleet  of  gunboats  under  Commodore  P'oote.  It  was  bitter  cold.  Amid 
sleet  and  snow  the  men  pushed  aloniL^  the  muddy  roads,  arrivin;^  at  Fort  Henry 
just  as  it  was  captured,  after  a  severe  bombardment,  by  the  i^unboats.  Grant 
immediately  turned  his  att(;nti(jn  to  I'ort  Donelson,  which  had  been  reinforced 
by  a  lars^re  part  of  the  t^^arrison  which  had  escaped  from  I'ort  llenry.  It  was 
held  by  Generals  Huckner,  Pdoyd,  antl  Pillow,  with  20,000  men.  P"or  three 
days  a  fierce  attack  was  kept  up  :  and  Huckner,  who,  having-  been  at  West 
Point  with  Grant,  doubtless  knew  that  he  was  "a  very  obstinate  man,"  sent  on 
the  mornin'^'-  of  the  fourth  day,  under  a  tla<,''  of  truce,  to  ask  what  terms  of  sur- 
render would  ho.  L^ranted.  In  re|)ly  (irant  sent  that  brief  stern  message  which 
thrilled  throuj^hout  the  North,  stirring"  the  blood  in  every  loyal  heart : — 

"  No    lERMS    liUT    UN'CONDITIONAL    AND    IMMKDIATF,  SURKENUKR  (AN    UK    ACCF-PTKl).       I  rROl'OSK 
TO    MOVE    IMMEDIATELY    LTON    VOIR    WORKS." 

Buckner  protested  a^^ainst  the  terms  ;  but  he  wisely  accepted  them,  and 
surrendered  unconditionally.  With  Fort  Donelson  were  surrendered  15.000 
men,  3000  horses,  sixty-five  cannon,  and  a  great  ([uantity  of  small  arms  and 


iir  11  iTi'- ■  ''■'  '■!■  ■«■'-■'■'-■-"-■■■""' I-'' 


I  ' '■''■''' "" "■■""j""""i-^'"" 


lIl.I'llKAlinN    DAY. 


DARK  DAYS  OF  jS6j-'6,\  281 

military  stores.  It  was  the  tirst  ^jrcit  vi(ti)r\'  tor  llu'  Xorlh,  and  llic  whole 
country  was  clcctriticd.  (iraiit's  reply  to  lUickiicr  In  ramc  a  household  word, 
and  the  people  of  the  Xorlh  di'li^hted  to  call  him  "  I  luonditional  Surrender 
Grant."  He  was  made  a  major-j^cneral.  his  commission  bearing-  ilate  of  I''el>- 
ruary  16,  1S62,  the  day  of  the  surrender  of  I'ort  I  )onelson. 

Till-:    MAITl.t;    ol'    Mill.!  111. 

The  next  ;^n-eat  battle  foui^ht  by  (Inml  was  that  of  Shiloh,  in  Mississippi, -- 
"  the  \\'aterl(j()  of  the  Western  campaign,"  as  it  has  be(;n  called.  In  this  battle 
ShiM'man  was  (irant's  chi(.'f  lieutenant,  and  the  two  men  tested  each  oiher'.s 
qualities  in  th(;  i^reatest  trial  to  which  either  had  been  exposed.  TIk;  battle  was 
one  of  the  turninL,''-points  of  the  war.  The  Confed(;rates,  under  Albert  Sidney 
Johnston,  onr.  of  their  best  q;enerals,  attacked  th(?  Union  forces  at  .Shiloh  Church. 
All  day  .Sunday  the  battle  ra^ed.  The  bra\'(!  [ohnston  was  killed  ;  but  the 
Union  forces  were  ilri\en  back,  and  at  niv;ht  their  lines  were  a  mile  in  the  rear 
of  th<Mr  position  in  the  niornini4-.  (irant  came  into  his  head(|uarters  tent  that 
eveniuLT,  when,  to  any  but  the  bravest  and  most  sanguine,  tlu:  battle  seemetl  lost, 
and  said  :  "Well,  it  was  tou^di  work  to-day,  but  \\i:  will  bc^at  them  out  of  t\u:\r 
bo(jts  t(j -morrow."  "  When  his  staff  and  the  ^cMierals  present  heard  this," 
writes  one  of  his  officers,  "they  were  as  fully  persuaded  of  the  result  of  the 
morrow's  battle  as  when  the  victory  had  actually  been  achieved." 

The  next  day,  after  dreadful  fi^htiuL;-,  the  tiile  turned  in  favor  of  th(i  Union 
fcM'ces.  In  the  afternoon,  Cirant  himself  led  a  ch;'rL;e  at^ainst  the  Confederate 
lines,  under  which  they  broke  and  were  driven  back.  Xii^ht  found  the  Union 
army  in  possession  of  the  field,  after  one  of  the  severest  battles  of  the  war. 

"The  path  to  ^lory."  says  a  wise  brenchman,  "  is  not  a  way  of  llowers." 
After  the  battle  of  .Shiloli,  Grant  was  bitterly  assailed  as  a  "butcher,"  as  "incoin 
petent,"  and  as  being-  a  "  drunkard," — a  charge  which  was  utterly  false.  Wh(;n 
President  Lincoln  was  told  that  Grant  "drank  too  much  whiskey,"  he  replied, 
with  characteristic  humor,  that  he  wishc-d  he  knew  what  brantl  ( ieneral  ( irant 
used,  as  he  would  like  to  semi  some  to  the  other  Union  generals.  The  abuse 
of  which  he  was  the  object  did  not  secnn  to  trouble  ( irant.  The  more  other 
people's  tongues  wagged  about  him,  the  more  he  held  his  own. 

The  winter  of  1862—63,  the  second  year  of  the  war,  was  full  of  gloom  for 
the  Xorth,  The  Confederate  cause  was  farther  atlvanced  than  at  the  beginning 
of  the  war.  Many  loyal  people  despaired  of  (;ver  saving  the;  Union.  ,\lth(High 
President  Lincoln  himself  never  lost  faith  in  the  final  triumph  of  the;  national 
cause,  the  cabinet  and  Congress  were  uneasy  and  anxious.  The  fall  elections 
went  against  the  party  which  advocated  the  carrying  on  of  the  war.  \'oluntary 
enlistments  had  ceased,  and  it  became  niicessary  to  resort  to  the  draft.  Unless 
a  great  success  came  to  restore  the  spirit  of  the  North,  it  seemed  probable  that 


28j  f7.]ss/:s  s.  craxt. 

ihi;  draft  uoiiUl  be  resisted,  thai  imn  would  hc^in  lo  desert,  and  that  \.\\v.  power 
to  rapture  ami  punisli  deserters  would  Ik-  lost.  In  a  word,  it  seemed  that  a 
jjreat  success  was  absolutely  necessary  to  prevent  the  I'nion  army  and  the 
Union  cause  from  ^oiniL;  to  |)i<!ces.  It  was  (irant's  conviction  that  the  army 
must  at  all  ha/artis  "  i^o  foruuiri/  /o  ii  (/(-r/s/rt'  victory." 

Till:    VII  kSIU  KC    (  AMI'Ml.X. 

On  a  \\\'i^\  blutf  on  tiie  cast  bank  of  tin-  Mississippi  river,  which  pursues  a 
winiliiiL,'^  course  throujj^h  its  fertik;  valley,  stood  tiie  town  of  \'icksl)urLC-  Irom 
this  point  a  railroad  ran  to  \\\v.  eastward,  ami  from  the  opjjosite  shore  another 
ran  wi-stward  throui^h  the  rich,  level  country  of  Louisiana.  The  town  was 
strongly  fortified,  and  from  its  (elevation  it  conunanded  the  ri\er  in  both  dire-ctiuns. 
So  ion^  as  it  was  held  by  the  Confiulerate  armies,  the  Mississippi  couki  not  be 
opened  to  navigation  :  and  the  line  of  railroad  running  east  and  west  kept  com- 
munication open  between  the  western  and  eastern  ])arts  of  the  Confederacy. 
How  to  capture  X'icksburg  was  a  great  problem  ;  but  it  was  one  which  (ieneral 
(irant  tlet(;rmined  should  be  solved. 

k'or  eight  months  (irant  worked  at  this  problem.  1  ie  fornied  plan  after 
])lan,  only  to  be  forced  to  give  them  up.  .Sherman  maile  a  direct  attack  at  the 
only  |)lace  where  it  was  practicabk;  to  make  a  laneling,  and  failed.  Weeks  were 
spent  in  cutting  a  canal  across  tin;  neck  of  a  peninsula  formetl  i)y  a  great  bend 
in  the  ri\er  opposite  X'icksburg,  so  as  to  bring  the  gunboats  through  without 
undergoing  the  tire  of  tlu;  batteries;  but  a  llootl  destroyeil  the  work.  Mean- 
while great  numbers  of  the  troops  were  ill  with  malaria  or  other  disease's,  and 
many  died.  There  was  much  clamor  at  \\'ashington  to  have  Grant  removeil, 
but  the  IVi;sident  refused,  lie  had  fiith  in  (irant,  and  dt^termined  to  give  him 
time  to  work  out  the  great  problem, — how  to  get  l)elow  and  in  the  rear  of  V'icks- 
burg,  on  th(^  .Mississippi  river. 

This  was  at  last  accomplished.  ( )n  a  dark  night  th(;  gunboats  were  suc- 
cessfully run  past  the  batteries,  although  every  one  of  them  was  more  or  less 
damaged  by  the  guns.  The  troops  wen;  marched  across  the  peninsula,  and 
then  t.ikcn  over  the  river  :  and  on  April  30th  his  whole  force  was  landetl  on  the 
Mississippi  siik,-,  on  high  ground,  and  at  a  point  where  he  could  reach  the  enemy. 

TIk-  railroad  running  east  from  \'icksburg  connected  it  with  Jackson,  the 
State  capital,  which  was  an  iniportant  railway  centre,  ami  from  which  X'icksbiirg 
was  supplied.  ( irant  made  his  movements  with  great  rapidity.  lie  fought  in 
(piick  succession  a  series  of  battles  by  which  Jackson  and  sf-veral  other  towns 
were  capturc^d  ;  then,  turning  westward,  h(!  attacked  the  forces  of  Pemberton, 
drove  him  back  into  \'icksburg,  cut  off  his  supplies,  and  laid  siege  to  the  place. 

The  eyes  of  the  whok-  nation  were  now  ceiitn^l  on  \'icksburg.  Oxer  two 
hundred  guns  were  brought  to  bear  upon  the  place,  besides  the  batteries  of  the 


Srh'R/:.\7)/:R  (V'    /  VC"A'.s/.V 'AY;.  2S3 

g'uiiboats.  In  ilcfault  ol  in!)rt:irs,  l^uhs  were  iinprovisi'd  l)y  Ijoi'Iiil;'  out  toii^h 
1ol;.s,  stronL,rly  bound  with  iron  l)an(ls,  which  did  ^ood  service.  1  he  |)(  oplc  ot 
Vicksbiirij  livctl  in  ci-lhirs  and  caves  to  cscapt-  the  shot  and  shell,  lood  ot  all 
kintis  Ixjcanie  very  scarce  ;  llour  was  sold  at  tiv<;  dollars  :i  pound,  molasses  at 
twelve  clollars  a  gallon.  The  endurance  anil  devotion  ot  the  inhabitants  were 
wonderful.  Hut  the  si('L,fe  was  so  rij^idly  Ami  relenih.'ssly  niainlaineil  that  there 
could  be  but  one  (Mid.  On  July  :;il.  <it  tiMi  o'clock,  lla^s  ot  truce  were  displayid 
on  tin;  works,  and  (lencral  I'eniberion  sent  a  niessat^'c  to  (irant  asking  lor  an 
armistice,  and  proposing  that  commissioners  be  aj)pointe(l  to  arranm;  terms  ot 
capitulation. 

Oik  th(?  afternoon  of  the  same  day,  Grant  and  I'tMuberton  met  und(;r  an  oak 
between  thi;  lini.-s  of  the  two  armies  and  arrani^fd  the  terms  of  surrender,  it 
took  three  hours  for  the  Confederate  army  to  march  out  ami  stack  tlu'ir  arms. 
There  were  surrendered  31,000  mrn,  250  cannon,  ami  a  L^n^eat  (|uanlity  ot  arms 
and  munitions  of  war.  Ikit  the  moral  advantage-  to  the  I'nion  cause  was  tar 
beyond  any  material  .i^ain.  The  tall  of  XicksburLC  carried  with  it  Port  1  ludsf)n, 
a  tew  miles  below,  which  surrendered  to  Hanks  a  fmv  tlays  later,  and  at  last  the 
great  river  was  open  from  .St.  Louis  to  tlie  sea. 

The  news  of  this  great  victory  came  to  the  \orth  on  the  same  day  with  that 
of  Gettysburg,  July  4,  1863.  The  rejoicing  over  the  great  triumph  is  indescri- 
bable. A  heavy  load  was  litted  from  the  minds  of  th<;  President  and  cabinet. 
The  Xorth  took  heart,  and  resolved  again  to  prosecute  the  war  with  energy. 
'l'h(;  name  of  Cirant  was  on  every  tongu(^  it  was  everywhere  felt  that  he  was 
the  foremost  man  of  the  campaign.  I  le  was  at  once  made  a  major-general  in 
the  regular  army,  and  a  gold  medal  was  awardetl  him  by  Congress. 

Early  in  September.  1S63,  General  (irant  paid  a  visit  to  (ieneral  Hanks,  in 
New  Orleans,  and  while  there  had  a  narrow  escajje  from  death.  Riding  one  day 
in  the  suburbs,  his  horst-  look  fright  at  a  locomotive,  and  came  in  collision  with  a 
carriagt;,  throwing  hims(;lf  down  and  tailing  on  his  rider.  I-'rom  this  severe  f;ill 
Grant  was  conthied  to  his  bed  lor  several  weeks.  On  his  return  to  V'icksburg, 
he  was  allowed  but  a  brief  period  to  rest  and  recover  from  his  accident,  H(;  was 
invested  widi  the  command  of  the  consoliilated  Departments  of  the  .South  and 
West,  as  the  Military  |)i\ision  o(  the  Mississippi,  and  at  once  moved  to  Eastern 
Tennessee. 

I.ooKoir    MolNIAIX    AMI    MISSIoNAKV    KIDCK.  y 

The  town  of  Chattanooga,  an  im|)ortant  railway  centre,  lies  in  the  beauti- 
ful valley  of  the  Tennes.see  river,  near  whf.'n;  it  crosses  the  lint;  into  Alabama. 
Directly  south  the  front  of  Lookout  Mountain  rises  abruptly  to  a  height  of  two 
thousand  feet  above  the  sea  level,  attording  a  magniilcent  view  which  e.xtends 
into  si.v  dirterent  .States,  and  of  the  Tenn(.'ssee  river  tor  thirtv  miles  of  its  wind- 
ing course.  Two  miles  to  the  east,  running  from  north  to  south,  is  the  crest  of 
17 


284 


/  7.  r.S.S/-;.S  .V.   (.RAXT. 


Missionary   Ri.dt^c,  live   luimlrcd  iv.vX  hi^h, — the  site;  of  schools   ami  chiirch(>s 
{'slabhshfd   Vnv^  aj^^o  hy  C"allu)lic  missicjiiarics  ainoni,''  th(;  Cherokee  Iiuhans. 
lliilh  l.otikout  MoiiiUain  and    Missionary  Ridi^c  were  otciipied    hy  the  army  t.)| 
(e-neral   l>rai,fLr.  and  'i'"^   coniniandiiiL;   position,   strtMigthcned   jiy  iorlit'ications, 
was  considered  iin|)r(;4iial)h'. 

Tlie  (hsastrous  battle  of  Chickaniaui^M.  in  September,  i.'^'),,,  IkuI  left  the 
I  nion  armies  in  blast  Tennessi^t;  in  a  [x.-rilous  siliialion.  (leni-ral  I'homas,  in 
ChattanooL;a,  was  heinme<l  in  b\-  the  COiifederate  forces,  antl  his  men  and  horses 
were-  almost  starvinL,''.  The  army  was  t^n  (piarter  rations.  Ammunition  was 
almost  exhausted,  and  the  troops  were  shoit  of  i  I'lihiniLif.  riu)usands  of  army 
mules,  worn  >iut  and  starved,  l;iy  dead   alont;'  tin;  miry  roads.      Chattanooga, 


■fc- -'^  "H,/ ,•.--  •^-;-,    ■> "91),  ■■,''■•'••'• 


■  .:x..^-^j:^"-*-''.i^^T 


IMII.U    sl.MI;.    MINI,    MAV    ORI.l;,\N>. 


occupied  by  the  I 'nion  army,  was  too  strongly  fortified  for  Hragg  to  take  it  by 
storm,  but  every  day  sh(;lls  from  his  batterii-s  upon   the  heights  were  thrown 
into  the  town.      I  his  was   th(;   situation    wh<  n  Cirant,    stilf  and   sore  from  his 
accident,  arrived  at   Xashville,  on  his  way  to  direct  the  campaign  in  luist  Ten 
nessee. 

"  Hold  Chattanooga  at  all  hazards.  I  will  be  there  as  soon  as  possible."  he 
telegraphed  from  Xaslnille  to  ( leneral  Ihomas.  •"  We  will  hold  the  town  until 
we  starve."  was  the  brave  reply. 

drant's  movements  were  ra|)id  and  decisiv(^  lb.' ordered  the  troops  con- 
centrated at  Chattanooga  ;  he  fought  a  battle  at  W'auhatchie,  in  Lookout  V^alley, 


C0MM.IXD/:R  (V-  ALL   TI/l':  AKM/ES.  285 

which  broke  lirai^fuT^  \vA(\  on  thf  river  Ix-low  C'hallanoo;_;a  and  shortened  the 
L  iiion  hea;  ot  supplies:  .in<l  hy  hi-,  prompt  and  \  iL;(>roiis  prepar.ition  tor  ette-c- 
tive  action  he  -,0011  liail  his  lroo|)s  lilted  out  ot  liie  deniorali/ed  eondilion  in 
which  ihcy  iKid  sunk  alter  the  delcu  of  L  hickaniau^a.  (  )ne  month  alter  his 
arrival  were  fou'^ht  the  memor,d)h-  iialth-sol  Lookout  Mountain  and  Missionary 
RidjL^e,  by  which  the  Conlederati-  troops  were  (h'i\iii  out  of  Tennessee,  tiieir 
hokl  on  th<;  comitry  broken  up,  and  a  lar^ic  ninnber  ol  i)risoners  and  i^uns 
japtured.  XolhiiiL;'  in  thi-  history  ol  war  is  more  inspirin^^  than  the  impetuous 
liravery  with  which  the  I'nion  troops  loui^hl  tlieir  wa\'  up  tlie  steep  moiuitain 
sides,  bristiin!^'  with  cannon,  and  (h'ove  the  L'onledei'ale  troops  out  ol  their  works 
at  the  point  ol  the  ba\'onet.  An  otVicer  of  ( leiieral  Ih-ai^i^'s  stall  afterward 
declared  that  tliey  considered  their  position  perfectly  impri'Liiiable,  and  that 
when  they  saw  the  I'liion  troo])s,  alter  captiirin^^  their  ritli'-pits  at  the  base, 
coining'  up  the  cra^i^y  moimtain  toward  tlnir  headipiarters,  tln'v  could  scarcely 
credit  their  eyes,  and  thouLjht  that  every  man  of  them  must  b(!  drunk.  I  listory 
has  no  parallel  for  subliinitv  ^.\\(\  picturesrpuMiess  of  elli.'ct,  while  the  conse- 
qiK-nces,  wliich  were  the  division  of  the  Confederacy  in  the  I'.ast,  were  inesti- 
niabh.'. 

Aft(!r  (irant's  success  in  Tennessee;,  the  pn|)uKir  demand  that  he  should  be 
put  at  thi;  head  of  all  the  armies  became  irresistible.  In  X'ir^inia  th('  magnifi- 
cent .\rmy  of  the  rolomac,  after  two  years  of  fiq^htint;^,  had  been  barely  able  to 
turn  back  from  the  Xorth  the  tide  of  Confederate  invasion,  ann  was  apparently 
as  far  as  ever  from  capturiiiij^  Richmond.  In  the  West,  on  the  other  hanil, 
(irant's  campaiL,ms  had  won  victory  after  victory,  hail  driven  the  opposinL,^  forces 
out  of  Missouri,  .\rkansas,  Kentucky,  and  reniK^ssee,  had  taken  \  icksburq', 
opened  uj)  the;  Mississip])i,  and  dixided  the  C(jnfederacy  in  both  the  West  and 
the  l-last.  In  response  to  the  call  for  (irant,  Compress  revived  tin;  erade  of 
lieutenant-e^eneral.  which  had  been  held  by  only  one  commander,  Scott,  since  the 
time  of  WashiiiL^toii  :  and  the  hero  of  b'ort  Donelson,  XicksburLj;',  and  Chatta- 
nooi^fa  was  nominated  by  the  President,  confirmed  by  the  Senate,  aiul  placed  in 
command  of  all  the  armii;s  of  the  nation. 

The  relief  of  President  Lincoln  at  havinq;  such  a  man  in  command  was  very 
C^reat.  "  drant  is  the  first  s^rih-ro/  I've;  hail,  "  he  remarked  to  a  friend.  "  \'ou 
know  how  it  has  be(;n  with  all  the;  r(;st.  As  soon  as  I  put  a  man  in  command 
of  th<;  army,  he  wouUI  come  to  me  with  a  i)lan,  and  about  as  much  as  say, 
'Now,  I  don't  believe  I  can  do  it,  but  if  you  say  so  I'll  try  it  on,'  and  so  put  the 
responsibility  of  success  or  failure  upon  nie.  They  all  wanted  i/u-  to  bt;  the 
y^eneral.  Now.  it  isn't  so  with  Grant.  1  le  hasn't  told  me  what  his  |)lans  are.  I 
don't  know,  and  I  don't  want  to  know.  I  am  i;lad  to  lind  a  man  who  can  <^o 
ahead  without  me. 

"W'heu  any  of  the  rest  set  out  on  a  campaign,"  adiled  the  President,  "they 


280 


r/A'SSJiS  S.  GRANT. 


would  look  over  matters  and   pick   out  soiiic  one  ihiiij;  ijicy  were  shc)rt  of,  anc 

which  thcv  knew   1  coiiKhrt   'Aw  ihcm,  and   tdl   mv.  they  couldn't  hope  to  win 

unless  they  had  it;  and  it  was  most  generally  caxalry.      Now,  when  (irant  took 

hoUl,  I  was  waiting  to  sec  what  his  jict 

impossibility  would  Ix-,  and  I  reckoned 

it  would  be  cavalry,  of  course,  for  wv. 

hadn't  enoui,di  horses  to  mount  what 

men  we  had.      Thert; 

were  fifteen  thousand 

men    up   near  1  iarp- 

er's    I'erry,    and     no 

horses   to    put   them 

on.     Well,  the  other 

day   (Irant   semis    to 

nv.  about  those  very 

men,    just    as    I    ex- 


pected  :   but  what  he 

wanteil   to  know  was 

whether    hi;     could 

make     infantry    of 

tliem  or  disband  thiin.    I  le  tloesn't 

ask  impossibilities  of  m(>,  and  he's 

the    first    oeneral    \'\v    had     that 

didn't." 

With  the  army  thoroui^hly 
reortj^anized,  Cirant  crossed  the 
Rapidan  on  the  4th  of  May  ;  on 
tli<;  5th  and  6th  crippled  the  |)rin 
cipal  Confederatt:  army,  com 
manded  by  Lee,  in  the  terrible 
battles  of  the  Wililerness  ;  flanked 
him  on  the  left  ;  fought  at  .Spott- 
jylvania  Court  i  louse  on  the  7th,  aiLi^ain  on  th(;  loth,  and  still  ai^ain  on  the  12th, 
on  which  last  occasion  he  ca])tured  a  whole  division  of  the  Confederate  army. 
Thus  durin<^  the  summer  of  1S64  he  kept  up  an  unceasins^  warfare,  ever  pursu- 
int^  th(;  offensivt!,  and  ilaily  drawini,^  nearer  to  the  rebel  capital,  until  at  last  he 
drove  the  enemy  within  the  defenses  of  Richmond. 


Tim  r/RGixiA  CAMiwrax.  287 

Never  was  the  persistent  couraL^e,  the  cIcicnniiK^tl  purpose  whiih  was  the 
fountlatioii  ot  (irant's  cliaractcr,  more  cU-arly  l)roii;4lit  out  than  in  thi'  X'iri^iiiia 
canipaiL^ii  of  1864;  and  never  was  it  more  necihd.  W Cil  chil  he  know  th.at  no 
sini,de  triumph,  how»'\(M"  brilHant,  wouKl  win.  i  le  sau-  plainly  that  noiliinL;'  hut 
"  hainmeriiiL,^  away"  would  avail.  The  stone  wall  of  the  Confiihracy  hail  too 
broad  antl  firm  a  base  to  be  suddenly  overturned  ;  it  had  to  be  slowly  reduced 
to  powder. 

l)urin<;f  the  an.xious  days  which  followed  tlu-  battle  of  the  W'ildcrnt^ss,  I'rank 
B.  Carpenter,  tin;  artist,  ndates  tl"  it  he  asked  I'residcnt  Lincoln,  "  llow  does 
Grant  impress  you  as  comparcil  with  other  grncrals  ?  " 

"  The  oreat  thinj4' about  him,"  saitl  th(^  PresitU;nt.  "is  cool  persistency  of 
purpose.  He  is  not  easily  excited,  and  he  has  th(;  .i^^rip  of  a  bull-tloy^.  U'/icn 
he  once  i^cls  /lis  Iccth  in,  noi/iim^  t;i/i  s'uikc  liini  off!' 

His  great  opponcMit,  Lei;,  saw  and  felt  that  samtMpialily.  When,  after 
days  of  indecisive  battle,  the  fighting  in  the  W'iUlerness  came  to  a  p.iuse,  it  was 
believed  in  the  Confederate  lines  that  the  I'nion  troops  were  lalling  l)ack. 
General  Gordon  said  to  Lee. — 

"  I  think  there  is  no  iloubt  that  Grant  is  ritreating." 

The  Confederate  chi<.;f  knew  bett(;r.      lie  shook  his  head. 

"  You  are  mistak<.'n,"  hi;  replied,  earnestly, — "  ipiile  mistaken.  Grant  is  not 
retreating  ;  lie  is  nof  a  rc/ri-aiiiij;;-  many 

Spottsylvania  followed,  th(;n  North  Anna,  Cold  Harbor,  and  Chickahominy. 
Then  (irant  changed  his  base  to  th<'  James  river,  and  attacked  Petersburg. 
Slowly  but  surely  the  Union  lines  closed  in.  "  balling  back  "  on  the  I'nion  siile 
had  gone  out  of  fashion.  .South  or  North,  all  could  see  that  now  a  steady,  re- 
sistless force  was  back  of  tin;  L'nion  armies,  pushing  them  e\er  on  toward  Rich- 
mond. 

Grant's  losses  in  the  final  campaign  were  heavy,  but  Lei;"s  slender  resources 
were  wrecked  in  a  much  more  serious  proportion  ;  and  for  the  Confederates  no 
recruiting  was  possible.  Their  dead,  who  lay  so  thickly  beneath  the  fields,  were 
the  children  of  the  soil,  and  there  were  none  to  replace  them.  .Sometimes  whole 
families  had  been  destroyed  ;  but  the  survivors  still  fought  on.  In  the  Confede- 
rate lines  around  Petersburg  then;  was  often  alisolute  destitution.  An  officer 
who  was  there  testified,  shortly  after  the  iiw^X  of  the  struggle,  that  evi'ry  cat  and 
dog  for  miles  around  had  been  caught  and  eaten.  Grant  was  pressing  onward  ; 
Sherman's  march  through  Georgia  and  the  Carolinas  had  proved  that  the  Con- 
federacy was  an  egg-shell ;  Sheridan's  splendid  cavalry  was  ever  hovering  round 
the  last  defenders  of  the  bars  and  stripes.  Grant  saw  that  all  was  over,  and  on 
April  7,  1S65,  he  wrote  that  memorable  letter  calling  upon  Lee  to  surrender, 
and  bring  the  war  to  an  end. 

The  Virginia  hamlet  dignified  by  the  name  of  Appomattox  Court  I  louse 


r./-l-S  SlRRliXniiR.  289 

comprised,  in  tin-  spring; of  iSos.  ti\c  iiouscs,  the  !arL,M'st  of  which,  a  hrick  (I\v(  II- 
inj^j,  was  the  iionif  of  Wilincr  Mel. can.  In  front  was  a  pleasant  yard,  sniilin.j.; 
with  the  sweet  IJowers  of  early  spring;.  In  this  house,  in  tlu;  afternoon  of  tlu; 
oth  ot  April,  ( ieneral  I.ee  and  (jeneral  (IraiU  met  to  arranL^<'  for  the  surrender 
of  Lee's  army,  which  was  in  effect  the  end  of  the  .Southern  LOnfederacy, 
'  When  I  iiatl  left  camp  that  morning;,  '  writes  (Irani,  "I  had  not  expecteil  so 
soon  the  result  that  was  tlvn  takin:^  placi',  and  consecpienily  was  in  roui^h  j,;arl), 
I  was  without  a  sword,  as  1  usually  was  when  on  horseback  in  the  field,  iii.d 
wore  a  soldier's  Mouse  lor  a  coat,  with  shoulder  straps  of  my  rank  to  indicati; 
to  the  army  who  I  was.  When  I  went  into  the;  house  1  found  (ieneral  Lee.  We 
greeted  each  othe-r,  ant!  aft(;r  shaking;  hands  took  our  seats. 

"(ieneral  \  .cv  was  dressi-d  in  a  lull  uniform  which  was  entirely  new,  ami 
was  weariiiL,^  a  sword  of  considerahh;  \alui.'.  \(ry  likely  lh<'  sword  which  had 
been  pntsented  by  the  .Stati;  of  X'iri^inia  ;  at  all  events,  it  was  an  entirely  dilter- 
ent  one  from  th(!  sword  that  would  ordinarily  be  worn  in  the;  field.  In  my  rou^^h 
travelini^^-suit,  the  uniform  of  a  private;  with  the  straps  of  a  lieutenant-general, 
I  must  have  contrast<;d  very  stranL,reIy  with  a  man  so  handsom(;ly  dressed,  six- 
feet  hii.;h.  and  of  faultless  form  ;  but  this  is  not  a  matter  that  I  thought  of  iinlil 
afterward." 

The  terms  of  surrender  allowed  by  drant  were  most  generous.  Officers 
anil  m(;n  were  to  be  paroled.  Tlu;  olticers  were  allowed  to  r(;tain  their  side- 
arms,  their  baj^^^ajre,  and  th(;ir  hors(,'s  :  ami,  with  humane  consideration  for  the 
men  who  had  lost  everythiiiiL^.  th(;  nu  n  were  allowed  to  keep  their  horses.  "  I 
took  it."  says  (irant,  "  that  most  of  the  men  were;  small  farmers.  The  whole 
country  had  been  so  raideil  by  the  two  armies  that  it  was  doubtful  whether  they 
would  be;  able  to  put  in  a  crop  to  carry  thi;mselves  and  their  families  throuu;h 
the  ne.xt  winter  without  the  aid  of  the  horses  they  were  then  ritlinu;.  Ihe 
Uniteil  States  did  not  want  them  ;  and  I  would  therefon;  instruct  the  officers 
...  to  let  (;vt;ry  man  .  .  .  who  claim(;d  to  own  a  horse  or  mule  take  the 
animal  to  bis  home.     Lee  remarked  as^ain  that  this  would  havi;  a  happy  (;ttect." 

(irant  also  suijplied  rations  from  his  own  stores  to  Le(;'s  starvim^  army. 
I'or  some  days  they  had  l)i;en  living;  on  parched  corn.  lI(.:L;avc-  them  forage 
for  th(;ir  horses  ;  and  when  th(;  I'nion  soldiers  be^^an  firing-  a  salute  of  one  hun- 
dred i^uns  to  celebrate  the  surrender,  (Irant  ordered  the  firing,''  stopped.  "The 
Confederates."  ht;  wrote,  "were;  now  our  prisoners,  and  we  did  not  want  to  exult 
o\'er  th(Mr  downfall."  Keadinu^  of  such  actions  toward  a  coiKpiered  foe.  it  is  not 
haril  to  understand  why.  tw{;nty  years  later,  the  .South  anil  the  North  toi^^ether 
read  with  tears  thi;  bulletins  from(irant's  bedside,  and  why  the  soldiers  who 
fouL,dit  a^rainst  him  joined  at  his  ij^rave  in  the  last  tribute  of  love  and  honor. 

The  rejoicint;  throuy^hout  the  North  over  die  surrender  of  Lee's  arm\-  and 
the  restoration  of  the  Union   was  checked  Ity  the  sudden  blow  of  the  assassin 


ZQO 


(r/.yss/:S  s  ckaxt. 


of  thi;  rri;si(l(:nt,  which  rhaiiijcd  lli.it  rc-joiciiii;  to  inourninij.  The  death  of 
Liiuolii  KjU  (iraiit  tht:  loninost  American  in  the  h(;arts  of  the  people.  In  the 
political  turmoil  which  followed  the  acci-ssion  of  Johnson  to  the  I'residency,  and 
in  tht;  period  of  ••  reconstruction,"  while  mucb  of  the  South  was  under  martial 
law.  (ir.mt,  as  head  of  th<!  army,  necessariK  held  a  prominent  plac<-.  I  lis 
popularity  increased,  and  his  nomination  for  the  presidency  in  iSoS  was  a  fore- 
eonc  conclusion.  In  187J  he  was  n;  elected,  this  lime  over  Horace  (ireeley. 
liis  popularity  was  so  ,L;en(  ral  that  the   opposition   to   him   was   insignificant. 


GENERAL  C.KXNT   AND   1,1    MfNT.   CH  WC,    VtrKROY   nr  rinvv. 


At  the  close  of  his  second  term  he  was  succet-ded  by  kulluM-ford  \\.  1  layes,  who 
was  declared  elected  by  the  f.imous  l^lectoral  Commission,  after  the  disputed 
election  of  1S76. 

Grant  was  by  nature  and  trainins.;;  a  soldier,  not  a  ci\il  administrator;  and 
while  there  was  much  to  admire  in  his  career  as  I'resident,  there  is  also  much 
that  has  ii^en  severely  criticised.  ,\ccustomed  to  repose  absolute  confidence  in 
his  friends,  he  was  deceived  and  maile  use  of  by  adroit  and  unscrupulous  men. 


/A  '.V( lA'.S-  FNi '.)/  Af.  1.  XA Tl( h\'S.  291 

aif.'iinst  whom  he  was  powcrlfss  to  dcfciul  liiinstlf.  I  h<;  unsettled  state  of  the 
country  alter  the  ci\il  war,  the  i)()lilical  and  i.u  e  i)r<'ju<lu-es  whit  h  disturbed  thu 
South,  the  ignorance  and  licl|)l«-.ssness  of  llie  freeihnen,  anil  the  d«niai  ol'  their 
rii^hts,  all  combined  to  make  th«;  task  of  l;o\  crnmeni  a  most  ditticull  and  delicate 
one,  IJut  whether  (iranl's  civil  carec-r  he  < onsiilered  successful  or  not.  il  soon 
became  evident  that  he  had  not  lost  his  hold  on  the  affectionate  admiration  of 
the  |)(  (»i»l(;,  and  that  his  fame  abroail  was  as  '^rv.a  as  at  home.  After  the  close 
of  his  second  term,  in  May,  i'S77,  he  saile<l  from  I'hiladelphia  for  a  tour  around 
the  world,  which  for  over  two  vears  was  maile  one  lonij-continued  ovation,  more 
like  the  trium])h.il  pro^^^ress  of  a  L,M*eat  monarch  than  the  journey  of  a  private  citi- 
zen. l>y  all  the  i^reat  nations  of  liurope  and  .\sia  he  was  recei\(.il  with  every 
mark  (jf  the  highest  honor.  1  le  was  the  q;uest  of  emperors,  kinj^js.  ami  municipal- 
ities, anil  welcomeil  with  tokens  of  L^ood  will  e(|ually  by  the  proudest  and  the 
humblest  of  th(;  ])eople.  Throuij^hout  I'-urope,  Turkey,  I'ersia,  India,  C'hin.i,  and 
ja|),in  he  journeyed,  and  when  at  last  he  landed  at  .San  I'rancisco,  the  demon- 
slr.ilion  in  his  honor  surpassed  anythini;  before  si'i-n  on  the  Pacific  coast.  It  is 
perhaps  not  too  much  to  say  that  until  their  eyes  were  opened  by  his  reception 
abroad,  the  American  ])eople  did  not  themselves  appreciate  Grant's  real  great- 
ness and  the  e.xtent  of  his  fame. 

cRwr's  TRoriu.i.s  .wo  now   HE  mi:t  TIII'.M. 

Hut  nothing  in  all  his  career  did  so  much  to  t"i.\  ( irant  in  the  aff(;ction  of  the 
country  as  the  events  of  the  last  year  of  his  life,  .\fter  his  return  from  abroad 
he  had,  at  the  solicitation  of  his  son,  joini:d  thi^  firm  of  Ward  6v:  lish,  in  .\ew 
York,  and  put  all  his  savings  into  il.  The  business  seemed  to  go  on  prosper- 
ously,— so  prosperously  that  Grant  believed  himse-lf  worth  a  million  dollars.  I  le 
himself  gave  no  attention  to  the  business,  contuling  entirely  in  the  active  part- 
ners. A  sudden  and  ap|)alling  exposure  followed  in  May,  1.SS4.  One  morning 
(irant  went  down  to  the  otTicc  in  Wall  .Street,  and  found  that  Ward  had 
absconded,  and  that  he  and  his  children  were  utterly  ruined.  Only  a  few  days 
before.  Ward  had  induced  him  to  borrow  one  hundred  thousand  dollars,  uiuler 
the  pretence  that  this  sum  would  enable  him  to  discharge  some  pressing  claims 
upon  a  bank  in  which  the  firm  had  large  deposits.  Grant  went  to  W.  II.  \'an- 
derbilt  and  asked  for  the  money  as  a  loan.  X'anderbilt  sat  down  and  drew  a 
check  for  it,  and  handed  it  to  his  visitor,  f irant  had  no  Idea  that  the  firm  with 
which  his  name  had  been  identified  e.xisted  upon  sheer  roguery.  lUit  all  the 
papers  were  soon  full  of  the  shameful  story.  The  famous  soldier  saw  but  too 
clearly  that  he  had  been  used  as  a  de-coy  by  an  abominable  swindler.  Mouse, 
money,  books,  furniture,  his  swords,  and  other  presents — the  money  of  his  chil- 
dren and  many  of  his  friends — everything  was  gone,  including,  as  he  thought, 
his  honor.     It  was  afterward  clearly  seen  that  he  had  no  complicity  whatever  io 


I- 
5 


-  i 


<     I 


7. 


s 


l'7XfSlllX(i  HIS  -MI-.MOIRSr  J93 

the  fnuids  coininitted  by  his  partiU-Ts, — that  he  u.is  the  chief  of  th(!  sulfcrcrs,  not 
in  any  way  a  culprit.  Ihit  syinpatliy  of  the  pcopK'  w«iit  out  to  him  ;  once  more 
he  rallied  from  ciifi't^hled  health  and  a  wouiuK-d  spirit,  and  Ik;  he^aii  to  Ixlieve 
that  in  time  he  mii^ht  recover  from  this  disastrou<?  blow. 

Hut  another  L;reat  calamity  was  haniL,dn,i4' ovt.T  him.  A  few  months  after  the 
failure  of  the  firm,  he  l)ej.,Mn  to  complain  of  a  pain  in  his  throat.  Ciradually  it 
jjrew  worst; ;  and  at  last  the  dread  fact  could  no  loiiL^cr  he  loncealed  th.it  his 
dis(;ase  was  cancer,  lie  hail  already  be^un  to  write  his  "  .Memoirs,"  nr^cd  on 
by  th(;  one  hope  which  now  remained  to  him — the  hope  of  makiiiL;  some  provi- 
sion for  his  family  in  place  of  that  which  they  had  lost.  iSut  tin;  torment  which 
now  visited  him,  il.iy  and  nij^^ht,  oblii^ed  him  to  stop,  lb;  could  not  lie  down 
without  l)rini;inL;  on  fits  of  chokin;^'  ;  he  wouKl  sit  for  hours,  as  (General  liadeau 
has  said,  "propped  up  in  his  chair,  with  his  hands  claspetl,  looking  at  th(;  blank 
wall  before  him,  siU;nt,  contemplatiniL;-  the  future  ;  not  alarmed,  bm  soh;mn  at  the 
prospect  of  pain  and  disease,  and  only  death  at  the  end." 

Then  there  camt;  a  chaiiL^re  for  the  better.  Wv.  kindly  messai^es  which  wer<: 
sent  to  him  from  all  classes  of  his  own  countrymen,  North  and  .South,  anil  which 
flowed  in  upon  him  from  l'Ji<;land — from  the  Queen  herself — i^m'i  at  I y  cheered 
ami  consoletl  him.  A_ifain  h(;  set  to  work  upon  his  book,  determined  to  finish  it 
before  he  died.  He  was  further  encourai^MHl  by  the  news  that  Coiii^ress  had  at 
last  ])ass(;d  a  bill  placini^  him  on  the  retired  list  of  the  army.  I  lis  oood  name, 
he  felt,  was  once  more  established.  \\\  June,  lScS5,  he  se(;meil  to  be  a  little 
better  ;  but  the  i^reat  heat  of  the  city  distressed  him,  and  a  villa  on  Nb)unt  .Mac- 
{.jret.jor,  ni;ar  .Saratoi^ja,  was  c)fferc!d  to  him  by  a  friend,  lb;  knew  that  he  could 
not  liv(;.  Hut  thr(;e  familii;s  were  depiMiiliMit  \\\in\\  him.  If  he  couKl  coinph-ie  his 
"  Memoirs,"  half  a  million  dollars  wouKl  Ix;  earned  for  them.  Aj^ain  and  a^ain 
h(;  took  up  p«;ncil  and  paper — for  he  could  no  lonsj^er  dictate — and  wrote,  slowly 
and  laboriously,  as  much  as  he  could.  Xo  murmur  escaped  him.  (jreat  physi- 
cal prostration,  accompanietl  by  inevitable  mental  ilepression,  often  assailed  him, 
but  he  summoned  all  his  ener!L,des,  and  came  back  from  the  very  portals  of  the 
orave.  That  his  chiUlren  and  s^randchildnMi  should  not  be  left  to  the  tender 
mercies  of  the  worUl, — this  was  the  solitary  lioon  he  cravtxl. 

And  it  was  irranted.  He  had  just  time  to  write  the  last  pae'e,  and  then,  on 
the  231!  of  luly,  the  end  came  gently  to  him.  With  his  wife  and  family  still 
around  him,  he  i)assed  away  as  an  over-wearietl  child  min'lit  fall  asleep. 

The  body  of  the  i^^reat  soldier  was  laiil  at  rest  in  Riverside  Park.  Xew  York 
city,  beside  the  lluilson  ri\er,  after  a  funeral  pay^eant  such  as  hail  never  Ix-eii 
witnessed  in  .\merica.  Tin;  army,  the  navy,  the  militia,  the  soldiers  of  the 
Souiiiern  army,  and  hundreds  of  thousands  of  citizens,  from  the  richest  to  the 
poorest,  joined  in  the  solemn  procession,  and  bowed  their  heads  around  the 
tomb  where  his  dust   was  laid.     For    weeks  the  whole  country  had   eagerly 


294 


C//.ySS/-S  S.  GRAXT. 


\vntch(!cl  for  ^\\ii  news  from  his  ludsidc.  Only  tour  days  before  his  death,  when 
the  clarkn<."ss  was  closinuj  in  around  him.  he  had  linished  liis  "  Memoirs."  under- 
taken that  his  debts  niii^ht  be  paid  and  his  IovimI  ones  provitUxl  for.  Now,  when 
all  was  over,  and  the-  memory  of  all  tlie  nation  owed  him  came;  back,  a  united 
peo[)le  leathered  to  render  at  his  grave  thi.'ir  trii)iites  of  love  and  oratitude-. 

When,  in  1866,  the  bill  to  revive  the  grach;  of  "  deneral  of  the  Army  of 
ihe  United  .States"  was  bef<»re  the  i  louse  of  Representatives,  (irant's  friend, 
I  [(.'iiry  C.  Deming  s|)oke  these  true  and  llttinL;'  words  : — 

"  Time,  it  is  saitl.  devours  the  proudest  human  memorial.  The  impress  we 
hav(;  made  as  a  nation  may  be  obliterated  ;  our  ^rancU'st  achiexcments,  even 
th()S(^  which  we  now  fondly  deem  eternal,  those  which  embellish  the  walls  of  that 
historic  rot^unda.  may  all  drop  from  the  memory  of  man  \vX  we  shall  not  all 
perish,  ^'()u  may  ri-st  assured  that  //irtr  .  liiicricivi  iiiViirs  will  siir\  ive  oblivion, 
and  soar  together  immortal  :  th(i  name  of  him  who  found(,'(l,  the  name  ot  him 
who  disenthralled,  with  the  name  of  him  who  saved  the  republic." 


AN    OLIJ   INUIA.N    lAR.M  HOUSE. 


THE    STORV    OF    THB    CIVII^    WAR. 


d/rUy.-'^' 


IT  would  be  a  mistake  to  suppose 
that  secession  sentiments  originated 
and  were  exclusively  maintaintnl  in 
the  Southern  States.  Ideas  of  State 
sovereignty  and  o(  the  consequent 
rijj^ht  of  a  State  to  withdraw  from  the 
Union,  or  at  least  to  resist  the  acts 
and  laws  of  Compress  on  adetiuate 
■'':-/  '-,  occasion,  were  held  by  many  states- 
men in  the  North  as  well  as  in  the 
South.  Thus  the  "  lissex  Junto," 
which  had  openly  advocated  a  dis- 
solution of  the  L'nion  and  the  for- 
matit)n  of  an  Eastern  Confcxleracy, 
were  foremost  in  asstMiibliii!^  a  con- 
vention of  the  I'ederalists  on  De- 
cember 15,  1S14,  at  Hartford,  Con- 
necticut, at  which  resolutions  were  passed  recommending'  the  State  Legislatures 
to  resist  Conjj^ress  in  conscriptini^  soldiers  for  carrying-  on  the  war  then  beins.;; 
waged  aoainst  l^nj^lantl.  Threats  of  disunion  were  again  heard  in  iS^i.but 
this  time  from  the  .South,  in  case  Missouri  should  be  denied  admission  to  the 
l'nion  on  account  of  her  unwillingn«ss  to  surrendc^r  the  institution  of  slavery. 
Once  more,  in  1832,  a  .South  Carolina  convention  proceeded  to  declare  the 
tariff  of  the  United  .States  null  ami  voitl  within  her  own  borders  ;  but,  owing  ti 
the  tlecisive  action  of  President  Jackson,  the  State  authorities  did  not  venturv.* 
into  an  actual  collision  with  Congress. 

Hut  the  agitation  in  favor  of  disunion  reached  culmination  under  the 
aggressive  efforts  by  tiie  .South  to  extend  slavery  into  new  Territories,  and 
the  determination  by  the  North  to  conhne  it  strictly  within  the  States  where  it 
already  existed.     With  the  formatijon  of  anti-slavery  societies  in  the  North,  the 

295 


A    SK11<MI>I1KR. 


296  STORV  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR. 

nomination  of  anti-sla\t.Ty  candidalcs  for  the  iVcsidcncy  from  1S40  onward,  the 
passai^^c  of  the  "Wiimot  Proviso"  in  1S46,  the  repeal  of  the  Missouri  comproinii>e 
in  1834,  the  Dred-Scott  decision  by  the  I'nitcd  States  Supreme  Court  in  1S57,  the 
adoption  of  the  Lecompton  Constitution  in  Kansas  in  1X59,  and  the  raid  by  John 
Brown  at  Harper's  berry  in  1S59,  it  became  painfully  eviilent  that  Mr.  S<!ward's 
prediction  of  an  "irrepressible  conilict "  between  the;  Xc^'lh  and  South  on  the 
subject  of  slavery  was  becominj^',  had  already  becouK?,  a  reality. 

As  to  John  Brown's  raid  wi;  have  only  to  recount  that  on  thi'  16th  of  Octo- 
ber, 1859,  he  took  an  armed  force  to  Fbirper's  berry,  capturiii;^  the  .u'senal  and 
armory  and  killing-  the  mtMi  on  jj^uartl.  He  was  then  endeaxoriuLj^  to  secure 
arms  for  operatini^  ai^ainst  the  South.  He  was,  however,  capturetl  and  e.\ecut('tl 
December  2,  1S59.  The  e.\[)edition,  it  is  unnecessary  to  say,  was  foolhanly 
and  wholly  without  justification,  and  Brown  jiaid  for  his  misguided  zeal  with 
his  life.  But  it  must  be  said  of  him  that  he  was  conscientious,  and  that  by 
his  reckless  darino^  he  helped  to  crystallize  sentiment  on  both  sides  of  the 
slavery  questic^n. 

The  election  in  1.S60  of  Abraham  Lincoln  as  President,  on  the  platform  of 
resistance  to  all  further  extension  of  slavery,  was  the  sij^nal  lor  the  previous 
disunion  oratory  and  menaces  to  crystallize  themselves  into  action.  Seven 
States,  in  the  followincf  order,  viz. :  South  Carolina,  Mississippi,  Florida, 
Alabama,  ("jeorL,na,  Louisiana,  and  Te.xas,  seceded,  and  by  a  Congress  held  at 
MontL^omery,  Ala.,  February  4,  1S61,  formed  a  Confederacy  with  Jefterson  Davis, 
of  Mississippi,  as  President,  aiu!  Alexander  H.  Stephens,  of  Georgia,  as  WzC' 
President. 

The  reasons  avowed  for  this  p(;rilous  course  were,  "the  refusal  of  fifteen 
of  the  .States  for  years  past  to  fulfill  tlK'ir  constitutional  obligations,  and  the 
election  of  a  man  to  the  h'gh  office  of  President  of  the  United  States  whose 
opinions  and  purposes  are  hostile  to  slavery." 

After  Mr.  Lincoln's  inauguration  on  ^Larch  4,  1S61,  the  Confederacy  was 
increased  by  the  addition  of  X'irginia,  .Arkansas,  North  Carolina,  and  Tennessee  ; 
Kentucky  and  Missouri,  being  divided  in  opinion,  had  representatives  and  armies 
in  both  sections. 

The  eleven  "Confederate  .States  of  .America"  took  from  the  Union  nearly 
one-half  of  its  inhabited  area,  and  a  populati(.)n  of  between  five  aiul  six  millions 
of  whites  and  about  four  millions  of  slaves.  Their  entire  force  capable  of 
active  service  numbered  600.000  men.  The  twenty-four  .States  remaining  loyal 
^o  the  I'nion  hail  a  population  of  20,000.000,  and  the  army  at  the  close  of  the 
war  numbered  1,050,000;  but  as  the  majority  of  these  were  scattered  on  guard 
duty  over  a  vast  region,  only  262,000  were  in  fighting  activity.  Whilst  the  North 
was  more  rich  and  powerfiil,  it  was,  nevertheless,  more  inclined  to  peace.  The 
South  was  of  a  military  spirit,  accustomed  to  weapons,  and  altogether  eager  for 


ADl'AXTAG/iS  01-   11  Hi  SOUTH. 


207 


the  Iray.  The  soldiers  of  l)oth  si(U;s  were 
CHjually  brave,  resolute,  h<'roic,  and  tlevoleil 
to  what  they  respectively  deenuul  a  patriotic 
cause. 

The  Confederate's  had  the  advantai^e  in 
the  outset,  because  Mr.  Idoytl,  the  Secretary 
of  War  under  President  lUichanan, 
had  dis])tM'setl  the  rei^ular  arnn.  cnm- 
prisinj^  16,402  olticers  and  niiii,  to 
distant  parts  of  the  country  where 
they  were  not  available,  and  had  sent 
otf  the  vessels  of  the  navy  to  foreign 
stations.  .,,  ■ 

iManyof  the  old  army  offi-   /i,  /-(A?f^Zt*| 


cers 
ate 


.    had   |)ass(Hl   <)\er   to   the  ^'itlxffJ.'^j'h/y'X 

service,  and  vast  (luantities  '^?;|C?^^'?/Ly'>, 

])ons  antl  ammunition  had  been     \] ,,    !( /''||'  J 
ed  from  Xtirthern  to 
arsenals  now  in  pos- 
the  seceded  States. 


the  army  at  Indian- 
been  surrendered  on 


TIIK   AKl-b    UF    PKACK   A.ND    lilt   AK 1    UK   WAR. 


Confeder- 
o  f    w  e  a  - 
transferr- 
Southern 
.session  of 
A  part  of 
ola      had 
February    i  S,    iSoi, 
by  Gent'ral    Twii^t^s, 
to  the  Confederates, 
and    other    soldiers 
'^^llf-^'VC''  .Ui'arilin^'  our  .Mcxi- 
P.M'\  ii\'  I  can  and  Indian  fron- 
I  tiers  were  captured, 
besides   several    na- 
tional vessels  and  fortresses. 
The'    South    v.as,    in     short, 
much  better  prc]>ared  for  the 
oreat  contlict,  and  durinjj^  the 
first  year  the  preponderance 
of  success  was  in  its  favor. 

The  Confederates 
opened  the  war  on  April  i  2, 
I  SO  I,  by  bombardiui;  lort 
Sumter,  which  had  been 
occupied  by  Major  Robert 
Anderson  and  a  company 
of  eighty   men.     This    fort, 


althouj^h  fuTcitly  pounded  l)y  caiiiiMH  lulls  and  sIh'Hs  and  set  on  fire  several 
times,  was  j^-allantly  helil  for  two  days,  when  it  was  oMi^^^ed  to  surrtMider; 
but  its  brave  dei\-nders  were;  allowed  to  march  out  saluliui^'^  tlu;  old  tlag', 
and  to  depart  for  the  North  without  bein^-  reL;ardeiI  as  prisoners  of  war. 
'ihe  attack  on  Sumter  created  the  wiUlest  excitement  throu>;hout  the  entire 
land,  and  it  openetl  tlu;  eyt;s  of  the-  North  to  tin-  amazing;  fact  of  a  civil  war, 
A  wave  of  patriotism,  as  mi^htx'  as  it  was  sudden,  swej)t  o\  er  the  United 
States.  President  Lincoln  issued  a  call  for  75,000  volunteers  for  three  months, 
and  soon  after  another  call  for  ()4,ooo  men  for  the  army  and  iS,ooo  for 
the  navy,  to  serve;  durint^  the  war.  The  need  for  these  calls  was  urL^^ent 
enou<;h.  On  April  20th  the  Confederates  easily  captured  the  <;reat  Norfolk 
Navy  Vanl,  with  three  or  four  national  vessels,  inclu(.linu-  the  frit^^ate  "  Merri^ 
mac,"  which  subsequently  wroui^ht  such  fearful  havoc  at  Hampton  Roads, 
2000  cannon,  besides  small  arms,  munitions,  and  stores  of  immense  value,  all 
of  which  were  sj^ixen  up  without  a  shot  in  defense.  The  arsenal  at  Harper's 
I'erry,  with  millions  of  dollars'  worth  of  arms  and  ammunition,  was  also  in  their 
possession  ;  and  before  the  end  of  .April  35,000  of  their  soldiers  were  already 
in  the  field,  whilst  10,000  of  these  were  ra])idly  marching-  northward,  (leneral 
K.  l'].  Lee  had  been  appointetl  Commander-in  chief  of  the  army  and  navy  of 
\'irqinia.  and  the  6th  Regiment  of  Massachusetts  militia  had  been  savayely 
mobbed  in  the  streets  of  Baltimore  whilst  !L,^oino-  to  the  protection  of  Washini^ton. 

A  I'nionist  attack  on  the  Confederates  at  I'lis^'  Bethel,  \'a.,  was  rt-pulsed, 
but  the  Confetlerates  were  driven  out  of  Western  \'iri;'lnia  by  Cent-'ral  (1.  B. 
McClellan.  Then  came,  on  Jul\-  21.  the  enga,^-ement  at  Bull  Run,  known  also  as 
that  of  Manassas  Junction,  one  of  tlu;  nu)st  sii^mificant  battles  of  the  war. 
General  Irwin  McDowell,  acting;'  umler  instructions  of  C.eneral  .Scott,  marched 
ai^^ainst  the  Conf(;derate  army  under  (General  Beaureo;ard,  and  in  the  outset  met 
with  encouraoiuL;  success  ;  but  just  as  tlu;  I'nionists  imagined  the  victory  theirs 
they  were  vigorously  pressed  by  reinforcements  that  had  come  hurriedly  up 
from  Winchester  tinder  the  leadership  of  Cieneral  Johnston  ;  and  being  ex- 
hausted from  twelve  hours  of  marching  and  fighting  uiuler  a  sultry  sun,  they 
began  a  retreat  which  was  soon  turned  into  a  panic,  attended  with  wild  disordei' 
and  demoralization.  1  lad  the  Confederates,  among  whom  at  the  close  of  the 
day  was  IVesitlent  Davis  himself  only  known  the  extent  of  their  triumph,  they 
might  have  followed  it  and  possibly  have  seized  Washington.  About  30,000 
men  fought  on  each  sitle.  The  Confederate  loss  was  T,yS  killed,  1489  wounded, 
and  30  missing.  The  L'nionists  lost  4S1  killed,  loii  wounded,  and  1460 
missing,  with  20  cannon  and  large  cpiantities  of  small  arms. 

I'Voni  this  moment  it  was  understood  that  the  struggle  would  be  terrible, 
and  that  it  might  be  long,  not  to  say  tloubtful.  Congress,  then  in  extra  session, 
authorized  the  enlistment  of  500,000  men  and  the  raising  of  ;pi500,ooo,ooo. 


McCi.iu.LAN  AS  or<;a.\i/i:r. 


TOO 


Many  of  thf.'  Stat(;s  <lis])layfil  'iitcnsc  patriotism,  Xcw  \'ofl<  ami  Pennsylvania, 
for  I'xam])]!',  ai)|)ro|)riatini:^'- ('ach  $^;,ooo.ooo,  whilst  Massachusetts  and  otlur  Xi;w 
Mnjj^iand  States  sent  reL;iments  fully  cMpiippi'd  into  the  field,  (ieneral  McClellan 
was  sumnion<'d  to  reoiLCani/e  and  discipline  the  multitudes  of  raw  recruits  that 
were  thrown  sudtlenly  on  his  hands.  I  lis  ability  and  thoroui^hni.-ss  were  of 
immense  value;  in  pre])arin^  them  for  their  sul)S(Miiient  <lteclive  sersice,  and  he 
was  soon  alter  made  C  ommandi-rin  chi''f  in  place  of  ( liiieral  .Seott,  relireil. 
The  South  was  also  lalxiriiiL;  with  tremendous  /.eal  and  enerL;\'  in  the-  endeavor 
to  enlist  400,000  men. 


riiRr    .Miirl.lRll-,    (  IIAKI.I-STON,    Willi     I  i  i|<  r    slMIIU    IN     I  II T.    M-.|.\M.'E. 

Early  in  August  the  death  of  ("leneral  Xathanid  I  .yon  whilst  attackino-  the 
Confederate  (ieneral  Hen.  McCulloch  at  \\  ilson's  Creek,  and  tlv  retreat  of  his 
army,  threw  all  Southern  Missouri  into  the  hands  of  the  enenu".  A  lew  ilays 
after,  (ieneral  lUitk-r  took  I'orts  I  latteras  and  Clark,  with  700  prisoners,  1000 
muskets,  and  other  stores.  Hut  victories  alternated,  for  now  (ieneral  .SterliuL,'' 
Price  surrounded  and  captured  the  Inionist  Colonel  MulJii^an  and  his  Irish 
britj^ade  of  2780,  at  Lexinjj^ton,  \  lo.  Worse,  however,  than  this  was  the  near 
annihilation,  October  2  i  st,  of  a  I  monist  forci'  of  i  700  under  ( ieneral  C.  I'.  .Stone 
and  Colonel  1'^.  D.  Haker  at  Hall's  Hluff      The  noble  Baker  antl  300  t)f  the  men 

18 


300 


STl^A']'  OJ'  Till:  ('.']'/ f.   WAR. 


were  slain  and  over  500  taken  ptisoncrs.  Ten  days  later  Commodore  S.  F. 
Diipont,  aided  l)y  ("icii'Tal  T.  W.  Siicrmai  wit.  11  io,cx)o  men,  reduced  tlie 
Confi-HJerale  fort:;  (jii  1  lillon  Head  and  Phillips'  Island  and  seized  the  ailjacent 
Sea  Islands.  CJeneral  I-'remont,  unable  to  find  am!  (;nL;a}^^e  the  Confeilerate 
Cjen(;nd  I'rice  in  the  ^\'est,  was  nliexcd  of  his  coinniand  of  30,000  men  ;  hut 
General  V.  S.  (irant,  l>y  ea])lurinL;;  th(;  Confederatt;  camp  at  Tx^lniont,  Mo., 
"hecked  the  advance  of  (leni'ra!  Jeff  Thompson.  On  the  next  day,  Xo\cMnber 
;  th,  occurred  a  memorable  event  which  imperiled  the  peacehil  relations  between 


l;.\lll.l-.   Ol-    I'll  I'MllLKi.    l.A.NUl.NG. 


the  United  States  and  Great  Britain.  Captain  Wilkes  of  the  United  States 
frigate,  "San  Jacinto,"  compelleti  the  British  mail  steamer,  "Trent,"  to  give  up  two 
of  her  passengers,  the  Confederate  Commissioners,  Mason  and  .Slidell,  who  were 
on  their  way  respectively  to  England  and  I'rance  in  the  interest  of  the  South. 
A  foreign  war  might  have  rt^sulted  had  not  Mr.  William  H,  Seward,  the  astute 
Secretary  of  State,  promptly  disavowed  the  act  and  returned  the  Commissioners 
to  English  keeping.  General  E.  O.  C.  Ord,  commanding  the  Third  I'ennsylvania 
Brigade,  gained  a  victory  on  December  20th  at  Uranesville  over  the  Confederate 


fALL  ('/•■  1-ORT  DOXUf.SOX.  301 

bri;;adL'  of  General  J.  I^.  P).  Stuart,  uho  lost  2^,0  soldiers,  and  during:  th(^  same 
montii  ( General  Tope  reported  th<'  capture  «if  2500  prist)ners  in  Central  Missouri, 
with  the  loss  of  only  100  men  ;  but  1000  of  these  were  taken  l)y  Colmiel  Jett".  C. 
Davis  by  surprising;  the  ConfeiU-rate  camp  at  Milford. 

'1  he  vear  iS')j\vas  marked  by  a  st'rits  of  blondy  (  luountcrs.  It  opened 
with  a  I'nion  army  of  450.00c:)  aj^ainst  a  Confederate  army  of  ;;5o,ooo.  The 
fi^htinL,^  be!j;^an  at  Mill  .SlJrin_L,^  in  Southern  Kentucky,  on  January  19th,  with  an 
assault  by  the  Confederates  led  by  (ieneral  ]•'.  K.  Zollicoffcr,  actin^j;-  under 
Cieneral  G,  !>.  Crittenden.  They  were  routeil  by  Geni'ral  Geor;;e  II.  Thomas, 
ZoUicolfer  bein^;  killed  and  Crittenden  lisinL:  across  tlie  Cumbi'rland  Ri\(T, 
l('avin^'  ten  .L;uns  and  1500  horses.  This  victory  stirreil  the  licart  ot  the  n:ition, 
and  broui;ht  at  once  into  brilliant  prominence  the  i^reat  soldier  and  noble 
character  whose  i^reatnes  blazed  out  like  a  sun  at  the  close  of  the  war. 

Another  blow  was  soon  struck.  I5ri_L;adier  General  Grant,  with  15,000 
troops,  supported  by  Commodore  A.  1 1.  I'oote  with  seven  _i::^unb(jats,  reduced  l'"ort 
Henry  on  the  Tennessee  River  and  took  its  commander,  (ieneral  L.  Tili^diman, 
prisoner,  but  could  not  prev(.'nt  the  jj^reater  portion  of  the  garrison  from 
escapinjj^  to  Fort  Donelson,  twelve  miles  to  the  east.  This  stronjL^hold,  com- 
mandini^  the  navi^^ation  of  the  Cumberland  River  and  containini^-  15,000 
defenders  under  CJeneral  J.  15.  bloyd,  was  ret^arded  as  imjireirnabk;.  It  fell, 
however,  on  February  j6th,  under  a  combined  attack  of  Grant  antl  Foote, 
surrendering-  12,000  men  and  40  cannon.  Generals  Moyd  and  Buckner,  with  a 
few  of  their  command,  managed  to  escape  across  the  river  by  night,  and  General 
N.  B.  I'orrest,  with  Soo  cavalry,  also  got  away.  This  splendid  achievement 
threw  Nashville  ami  all  Northern  Tennessee  into  possession  of  the  Unionists, 
and  caused  the  immediate  evacuation  of  the  Confederate  camp  at  Bowling 
Green,  Kentucky. 

In  the  Fast,  about  the  same  time.  General  Burnside  and  Commodore 
Goldsborough,  with  1 1  500  men  on  31  steamboats,  captured,  with  a  loss  of  300, 
Roanokt:  Island,  N.  C,  and  2500  Confederates.  On  March  14th  they  carried 
New  Bern  by  assault,  losing  600  but  taking  2  steamboats,  69  cannon,  and  500 
prisoners  ;  and  nt!.\t  they  seized  Fort  Macon,  with  its  garrison  of  500  and  stores. 
But  the  Unionist  Generals  Reno  and  Foster  were  repulsed,  respective!)',  at 
South  Mills  and  Goldsborough.  One  of  the  most  notable  of  naval  engagements 
took  place  on  March  8th  and  9th,  when  the  Confederate  ironclad,  "  \'irginia," 
known  better  by  her  original  name,  the  "Merrimac,"  steamed  out  from  Norfolk 
attended  by  two  gunboats.  .She  plunged  h(;r  iron  ram  into  the  I'nion  frigate, 
"Cumberland,"  causing  her  to  sink  and  to  carry  down  part  of  her  crew;  she 
blew  up  the  "  Congress,"  another  Union  frigate,  destroying  more  than  half  of  her 
crew  of  434,  drove  the  frigate  "Lawrence"  under  the  guns  of  Fortress  Monroe, 
and  bombarded  until  dusk  with  terrific  energy,  aided  also  by  her  gunboats,  the 


X02 


STOKV  OF  Tin-:  Civil.  WAR. 


Union  steam  fri<jfat(!  "  Minnesota,"  which  had  |L,'ot  aiL^^rouncl.  She  seemed 
destined  on  tii(!  ni;.\t  day  to  work  immeasurable  and  unimpeded  havoc.  Hut, 
providentially,  ilnriiiL^  the  nit^ht  the  Union  "Monitor,"  lookinjf  like  "a  cheese 
l)o\  on  a  rati,"  which  had  Ikmii  huill  by  Captain  liricsson  and  was  commanded 
with  consummate  skill  by  Lieutenant  J.  L.  W'onh-n,  steameil  into  the  roadstead 
on  her  trial  trip  from  \ew  ^'ork.  When,  therefore",  the  "  Merrimac  "  ap[)roached 
ft)r  new  contpiests  the  followinLf  morninL;  her  surprise  was  tremendous  upon 
nicetin<^  sucii  a   strange   craft.     An   unwonted  and   dramatic  naval  duel   now 


ANTU.TAM    1IR!Ix;F.. 


occurred,  from  which  the  Confederate  ram  retired  batlly  crippled  and  was  soon 
afterward  lilown  up  to  prevent  her  being  captured.  The  "Monitor"  was, 
unfortunately,  lost  some  months  afterwartl,  in  a  storm  off  Hattcras. 

The  smoke  had  not  vanished  from  Hampton  Roads  before  news  came  of 
an  assault  at  Pea  Ridge  by  from  16,000  to  18,000  Confederates,  including  5000 
Indians,  under  Cieneral  E.  Van  Dorn,  on  10,500  Unionists  under  General  S.  R. 
Curtis,  supported  by  Generals  Asboth  and  .Sigel.  After  three  days  of  severe 
fighting,  in  which  1351   Unionists  fell,  the  Confederates  fled  with  precipitation, 


THE  BATTU-  OF  SHI/.O/f.  303 

leaviiivj^  Generals  H.  McCiiUoch  and  Mcintosh  dead  and  Iia\  injj;'  Generals  Price 
and  Slack  anioni^  their  wounded. 

General  McClellan  havinj^  raised  his  200.(X)0()r  more  men  to  a  hi,L;h  des^ree 
of  efiticiency,  transferred  considerably  more  'han  half  of  thrm  to  I'ortress  Monroe 
for  the  purpose  of  advancini^  on  Richmond  by  way  of  ih<:  I'eiiinsula  between  the 
York  and  James  Rivers,  lie  left  (ieneral  Hanks  with  7ikjo  soldiers  to  j^niaril 
the  \'iri,nnia  X'alley.  This  force,  at  that  time  under  tlu;  conuiKuul  of  ( ji:neral  James 
Shields,  because  Hanks  had  L,^one  temporarily  to  W  ashini^ton,  was  fiercely  assaileil 
at  Kernstown  by  "  .Stonewall  "  Jackson  at  the  head  of  40txj  men.  Jackson 
was  repulsrd  with  a  loss  of  1000,  whilst  .Shields  lost  6(X).  McClellan's  advance 
was  checked  fora  month  by  Confederate  batteries  at  Warwick  Creek  and  aj.,fain 
atW'illiamsburi,''  by  (jeneral  Ma^ruder's  works.  I  len;  General  I  looker's  division 
foui^ht  well  lor  nine  hours  with  heavy  losses.  Mai^ruder,  llanked  by  Hancock, 
whose  two  briL,^ades  fought  bravely,  was  obli_!:,a;d  to  retreat,  le'avins^-  700  of  his 
wounded.  The  Unionists  lost  altogether  222S,  whilst  thi:  Confederates  lost  not 
quite  so  many. 

In  the  meantime,  on  April  6th,  General  Cjrant,  with  an  army  of  40,000,  was 
surpris('d  at  I'ittsbin'i:;'  Landint,''  by  50,000  Confederates  under  ( ieneral  A.  S. 
Johnson.  General  Grant,  instead  of  beiuL,''  with  his  troops,  was  on  a  boat  near 
Savannah,  seven  miles  below.  The  Union  forces  were  completely  surjjrised. 
No  intrenchments  or  earthworks  of  any  kind  had  be(;n  erected — lh(;re  were  no 
abattis.  The  Union  forces,  surprised,  were  rapidly  dri\en  back  with  heavy  loss  in 
guns,  killed,  wounded,  and  prisoners,  from  -Shiloh  Church  to  the  bluHs  of  the 
Tennessee,  under  which  thousands  of  demorali/c:d  men  took  refu^-e.  Cjeneral 
Albert  S.  Johnson  had  been  killed  in  the  miilst  of  the  battle  and  (General 
Beaurejrard  succeeded  to  the  command.  Mad  General  Johnson  bee-n  alive  the 
result  mi^ht  have  been  iliflerent ;  Init  Beauresj^ard  was  in  command,  and  he 
missed  the  one  opportunity  of  his  life  in  restinLj  on  his  arms  when  he  should 
have  pressed  the  enemy  to  the  river  and  forced  a  surrender.  Hut  relief  was  at 
hand,  and  under  a  leader  who  was  a  mast(;r  o^eneral  on  the  field.  Sunday 
night  General  Don  Carlos  Huell  arrived  on  the  scene  with  a  part  of  the  Army 
of  the  Ohio.  INIoviny;'  General  Nelson's  division  across  the  Tennessee  in  boats, 
he  had  them  in  position  by  seven  o'clock  in  the  evening-,  reatly  for  the  onset 
in  the  mornini^.  Two  more  divisions  were  crossed  early  in  the  morninj,^.  At 
seven  o'clock  the  attack  was  bejrun,  General  lUiell  leading-  his  troops  in 
person  and  General  Grant  ailvancing  with  his  troops,  yesterday  overwhelmed 
by  defeat,  to-day  hopeful  and  confident.  The  result  is  well  known.  Huell's 
fresh  troops,  handled  in  a  masterly  manner,  were  irresistible.  Hy  four  o'clock 
the  enemy  lost  all  they  had  gained  and  were  in  full  retreat,  and  the  day 
was  won,  General  Buell  receiving  unstinted  praise  for  his  victory.  The 
Union  loss  was  1735   killed,  7882  wounded,  and  3956  missing;  total,  13,573. 


304  6TC^A' }  ■  c  '/•■  run  CI  VI L   If  J  A'. 

The  Conf(nlt'nitfs'  loss  \v;is  172.S  killed,  Sou  wduiuNd,  (;5-  missing,';  total, 
10,699. 

About  the  same  date  (lencral  IV)|)c  and  Commodore  Foote  captured  Island 
No.  10,  with  0700  Confederates  imdiT  Hri<.,'adier  (ieneral  Mak.ill  ;  and  soon  after 
Memphis  siirrentlered  to  the  I'liionists,  and  on  .\|>ril  1  1  th  I'ort  I'ulaski  fell 
before  a  bombardment  by  ( ienctral  (J.  .\.  ( lilmore.  This  same  month  was  notabU: 
for  naval  victories,  .\dmiral  larrajL^ut  with  a  tleet  of  forty-sevi-n  armed  vessels 
and  ;iio  L,nins  stormeil  the  Coidederate  b'orts  .St.  Philip  and  Jackson,  destroyed 
various  hre-rafts  and  ^^aniboats,  and  after  a  series  of  brilliant  actions  compelled 
the  Confederate  (i'-neral  Lovell  with  ,,000  del\!nders  to  withciraw  (rom  .\<'W 
Orleans,  leavin*,^  it  to  be  occupieil  by  15,000  I'nionists  uniler  (ien(!ral  Ihitler. 
in  the  words  of  another,  this  "was  a  contest  betw<'cn  iron  hearts  in  wooilen 
vessels,  and  iron  clatls  with  iron  beaks,  and  the  iron  hearts  prevailed." 

-McClellan's  army — a  [)att  of  which  had  been  tlirown  across  the  Chicka- 
hominy — was  savaiL,M-ly  attacked  on  May  2Sth.  at  b'air  Oaks,  by  (ieneral  If)se[)h 
1'].  Johnston,  now  Cominander-inchief  of  the  Confed«.'rate  forces.  .Although 
Johnston  was  badly  wounded  ami  his  troops  after  a  day  of  hard  fii^htint^  were 
oblij^ed  to  retire,  yet  th(;  L'nion  loss  was  57,^9,  inclutlin!:,''  five  colonels  killeil  and 
seven  gf'iierals  wounded.  McClellan  was  now  rtniiforced  until  he  had  altOi.,a-ther 
1 56,S2S  miMi,  of  whom  i  i  5, 1 62  were  in  L;<)od  condition  for  (,'ffective  service.  Noth- 
ing', however,  was  accom|.'lished  until  (Mineral  Lee,  who  had  succeeded  the  dis- 
abled Johnston,  forced  the  riL,duin>.jon  June-  26th  that  led  to  six  horribh;  battles  on 
as  many  successive  days,  known  as  those  of  Oak  drove,  Mechanicsvillc.  Ciaines's 
Mills,  .Savaj^e  .Station,  White  ( )ak  .Swamp,  and  Malvern  Hill.  In  tlie  last  one 
the  Confederates  were  sii^nally  defeated  by  McClellan  with  a  loss  of  10,000. 
while  the  l'nion  loss  was  about  5000.  F^urinu,''  those.'  six  battU's  the  l'nion  loss 
was  15S2  kilU'd,  7709  wounded,  and  595S  missinL,^  makin^,^  a  total  of  15,249, 
The  Confederate  loss  was  perhaps  douhk;  ;  (ienc-ral  (iriffith  and  three  colonels 
killed.  Nevertheless,  McClellan's  campait^n  was  unsuccessful  ;  Richmond  was 
not  taken  ;  and  by  order  of  tin;  Presid(;nt  he  retreateil  to  the  Potomac, 

Cjeneral  Malleck  now  became  Commander-in-chief,  and  a  vii^orous  campai<j;-n 
was  opened  l)y  the  I'nionist  Ceneral  Pope.  He  was  met  in  several  stubbornly 
fouq;ht  actions  liy  the  Confetlerates  under  Gent^rals  Lee;,  Jackson,  and  Long- 
street,  and  was  l)adly  routed.  '•'  In  this  bloody  affair,  known  as  the  second  battle 
of  Hull    Run,   the  L'nionists  lost  25,000,   including  9000  prisoners  ;  the  Con- 

*In  atcountint;  for  his  defeat  General  Pope  attempted  to  fix  the  blame  upon  General  Fitz  John 
Porter,  a  very  able  and  sueccssful  ctimmaidcr,  charging  that  he  failed  to  su]>i)ort  him,  and  a  conrt- 
martial  convened  in  the  heat  of  the  discussion  ea.shiered  the  General.  Hut  later,  in  deference  to  public 
opinion,  tiie  <  ase  was  reojiened.  the  jirevions  unjust  verdict  was  set  aside,  and  General  Porter's  good 
name  was  cleared,  his  conduct  being  fully  justified — an  acquittal  in  entire  accord  with  the  riper 
second  thought  of  public  opinion. 


LEE. 


305 


li'dcratrs  lost  i5,o<xi.  ficivral  !.r<'.  on  Sci>t<'mli«T  Stli.  iinadrd  Maryl.uul, 
wluM-c  at  South  Mountain  ht--  was  worsted  by  McLU-'llan,  who  l(jst  heavily  of  his 
own  nion,  but  took  1500  prisoners. 

A  f«\v  days  lat(;r  Harper's  I'erry,  with  11. 5S;,  Unionists,  7;  j,nins,  and 
inini<:nse  ([uantities  of  war  munitions,  was  surrenderetl  to  Stonewall  Jackson. 
McClellan,  with 
So. 000  men  at- 
tacked Lee.  posted 
with  70.000  on  a 
ridge  facinji,'-  An  lie- 
tain  Crcik.  This 
di'lcrmined  battle 
ende-d  in  I.e(;'s  de- 
feat and  retreat. 
McClellan  lost 
2010  men  killrd, 
9416  wounded, and 


1043 

total  of  12,469.  Lee 
lost  1S42  killed, 
9399  wouniled,  and 
2292   missing;   to- 


tal.   1 


ov")  JJ- 


This 


\  ■ 


is  regarded  as  the     >• 
bloodiest  day  in  the    c: 
history  of  America.  f^C  ^ 
There    is    little 
doubt  that  had  Mc- 
Clellan   followed 
up  his  magnifictMit 
victory    he    could 
have  entered  Rich- 
mond.     Here   was 
his    mistake ;     but 
this  did  not  justify 
the  Government  in 

retiring  him  as  it  did.  Surely  McClellan's  great  victory  entitled  him  to  the 
further  command  ;  l:)ut  the  opposition,  especially  that  of  Secretary  Stanton,  was 
too  powerful,  and  he  was  retired. 

General  Rurnside,  having  succeeded  McClellan,  assailed  Lee  at  Fredericks- 
burg, December  13th,  but  was  disastrously  beaten.     His  loss  was   11 52  killed^ 


GtNtKAL    KuliKRT    Kl)MUM)    LEE. 


3o6  sn'A'v  or  riir.  civil  war. 

9101  wouiKlfd,  "",234  inissinj.'  ;  total,  i;v77i.  I  li<"  Confrdcrato  loss  was  about 
500J.  (icneral  lUirnsiilc  was  iclitvcd  in  taxor  of  (icmral  1  looker  in  January, 
1863,  who — havin<,f  rt'ceivcd  riMiitorccnurits  until  his  army  anu)unt(;d  to  100.000 
infantry.  13,(Xk:)  cavalry,  and  lo.ox)  artilhry — assumed  the  offensive  ai^ainst  I,<n: 
on  May  2d',  1S63,  at  Lhancellorsville,  but  was  terribly  defeated,  lie  lost  17.1^7 
men.  1  lis  defeat  was  due-  to  a  brilliant  rear  and  tl.mk  moxfinent  executed  by 
Stonewall  Jackson,  who  thus  demolished  tlu*  lCle\cnth  Corps  but  was  himself 
slain.  Jackson's  death  might  will  be  regarded  as  an  irreparable  disaster  to  the 
Confederate  cause. 

Lee,  with  nearly  100,000  men,  again  marched  northward,  taking  4000 
prisoners  at  W  inclu:sti!r,  lie  was  overtaken,  July  i  st,  by  thi:  I'nion  army, 
numbering  100,000.  now  under  the  comiiKuul  of  (ieneral  (ieorge  (i.  Meade,  at 
Gettysburg;  where  a  gallant  and  blootly  battle  was  fought  lasting  three  days 
and  ending  in  a  great  victory  for  the  Unionists.  One  of  tht;  features  of  the 
battle  was  a  gallant  charge  of  I'ickett's  Confederal*.'  Hrigadi!,  when  they  faced  a 
batKTy  of  \iyo  guns  aiul  were  nearly  annihilated.  Hut  it  was  all  American 
bravc.'ry.  They  lost  2834  killed,  13,709  wouiuie-il,  6643  missing;  total,  23.186. 
The  total  Confetlerate  loss  was  36,000.  I  lad  Meatle  known  \\u\  extent  of  his 
triumph  he  might  have  followed  and  destroyed  the  retreating  Lee,  whose  army 
in  this  campaign  dwindleil  from  100,000  to  40,000. 

On  the  sam(>  memorable  day,  b'ly  3d,  X'icksburg,  after  having  resisted 
many  and  determinetl  assaults,  and  alter  finiling  its  defenders  on  the  south 
surprised  and  beaten  in  detail  by  (irant's  army  aided  by  Commodore  I'orter's 
naval  operations,  surrendered,  closing  a  campaign  in  which  Cirant  had  taken 
37.000  prisoners,  with  arms  and  munitions  for  60,000  men.  His  own  loss  was 
943  killed,  7095  wounded,  and  537  missing;  a  total  of  8515.  These  two 
notable  victories  were  the  turning  points  in  thi'  war. 

Meantime,  in  the  West  the  war  had  been  pursued  during  the  year  with 
varying  fortunes.  The  Confederate  General  Forrest  had  captured  1 500  men 
at  Murfreesboro,  Tenn.;  Kirby  Smith  had  captured  5000  Unionists  at  Richmond, 
Ivy.  ;  General  Hragg  had  captured  4000  prisoners  at  Mumfordsville,  Tenn.  ; 
Generals  McCook  and  Rousseau,  having  attacked  the  enrmy  without  the  orders 
of  General  Buell,  and  thinking,  as  General  Buell  said,  to  win  a  victory  without 
his  assistance,  were  defeated  by  General  Bragg  at  Perryville,  whose  loss  was 
2300 :  our  loss  was  4340.  General  Rosecrans,  with  a  loss  of  782,  whipped  the 
Confederate  General  Price,  at  luka,  Miss.,  whose  loss  was  1000  men.  Rose- 
crans repulsed  again  the  Confederates  on  September  i  7th  at  Corinth,  inflicting 
a  loss  of  1423  killetl  and  taking  224S  prisoners.  His  own  loss  was  2359  men. 
A  brigade  of  2000  Unionists  was  captured  by  John  Morgan.  A  campaign  of 
46.910  men  under  Rosecrans  culminated  in  the  battle  of  Stone  River.  January 
2d.  1863,  against  Bragg,  who  was  beaten  and  forced  to  retreat.     The  Unionist 


CIIICKAMAUGA  AXP  I.OOKOIT  MOVSTAIN.  307 

losses  were  15.^;,  killed,  7245  woutulL-d.  2Sao  missini^ ;  a  total  of  11,57.'^. 
Braj^fj^'s  loss  was  9000  killt-d  axxA  woiindctl  and  over  1000  missiiij^^.  The  Con- 
feik-rate  \'aii  Dorii  surprised  ami  took  prisniit-rs  2<yoo  \wv.\\  at  Holly  Spriiiirs. 
and  at  the  same  tiim;  took  >.;.,(x:)0,ocx)  worth  of  stores,  dencral  Slicnnaii  was 
rc^pulsed  at  Chickasaw  Hayoii  with  a  loss  of  2cxj(j  men  ;  but  (iencral  J.  A.  Mc- 
CkTiiaiul  reduced  l""ort  I  liiulinan,  capturinj^'  5000  prisoner;  and  17  j^uns,  whilt! 
his  loss  was  only  977.  Colonel  (Jrierson  made  a  famous  raid  with  1  700  cavalry 
to  Haton  Roujjje,  cuttini,''  Confederate  communications  and  takinj^  500  prisoners. 
At  Miiliken's  Hend  the  l'ni(Miist  (ieneral  I  )<'nnis,  havin,)^^  \-\oo,  repelletl  an 
attack  of  the  Confederate;  CJeneral  11.  McCulloch,  the  loss  on  either  side  bein^ 
500.  At  1  lelena,  Arkansas,  the  I'nionist  (ieneral  H.  M.  Prentiss,  with  4000. 
also  repulseil  General  Holmes  with  3646,  of  whom  1636  wt-re  lost.  The  Con- 
federate raider,  Mori^^an,  with  a  mounted  fc^rce  of  4000  men,  invaded  Ohio, 
July  7th,  but  was  caught  by  i^unboats  and  oblii^ed  to  surreniler. 

General  Purnsitle,  early  in  Se|)lember,  at  Cumberlaiul  Gap,  captured  General 
Frazier  with  fc-  rteen  L;uns  and  2000  men.  Then  came,  on  .SeptcMuber  I9lh,  the 
great  battle  of  Chickamaui^a,  between  Rosecrans  and  Thomas  with  55,000  men 
on  one  side,  and  Braq-ij  and  Lonij;^street  with  about  the  same  mmiber  on  the  other 
side.  Longstreet  annihilated  Rosecrans"  rit^dit  wing  ;  but  Thomas  by  his  firmness 
and  skill  saved  the  day.  Ihe  Confederates  lost  iS.ooo,  while  liie  Union  loss  was 
1644  killed,  9262  wounded,  4945  missing;  total,  15.581.  Our  army  fc;ll  back  on 
Chattanooga.  Longstreet's  attempt,  Nov.  2Sth,  to  dislodge  Hurnside  from  Kno.\- 
ville  resulted  in  his  own  loss  of  800  and  retreat.     The  Unionists  lost  100  men. 

On  September  2 2d  to  24th  the  forces  of  General  George  H.  Thomas,  rein- 
forced by  Cieneral  Sherman,  under  the  command  of  Grant,  assaulted  Bragg's 
army  on  Mission  Ridge,  facing  Chattanooga.  General  Sherman  crossed  the 
Tennessee  to  attempt  a  llank  movement  but  was  repulsed.  General  1  looker 
moved  up  Lookout  Mountain  and  drove  the  Confederates  before  him,  capturing 
men  and  guns.  Then  General  G.  H.  Thomas,  in  accordance  with  his  original 
plan  of  battle,  moved  his  army  by  the  front  directly  up  the  heights  of  Mission 
Rid<re,  assailintjf  the  enemv  in  the  very  teeth  of  his  batt(.'ries.  The  fiirht  was 
desperate,  but  Thomas's  forces  won,  driving  the  enemy,  making  many  prisoners 
and  capturing  many  guns.  The  Union  losses  were  757  kill-jd,  4529  wounded, 
330  missing  ;  total,  5616.     There  were  6142  prisoners  captured  from  the  enemy. 

During  this  time  Charleston,  which  had  inaugurated  the  Rebellion,  pluckily 
resisted  all  attempts  to  take  it.  For  e.xample,  her  defenders  beat  back  6000 
Unionists  with  a  loss  of  574  men  at  Secessionville  June  i6th.  Again,  they  dis- 
abled two  of  the  blockading  gunboats  on  January  ist,  1863  ;  again,  they  forced 
nine  bombarding  iron-clads  under  Commodore  Dupont  to  retire ;  again,  they 
repulsed  from  F"ort  Wagner  a  storming  party  under  General  Gilmore,  inflicting 
a  loss  of  1 500,  while  their  loss  was  but  100  men  ;  again,  while  obliged  to  evacuate 


3oS 


STORY  OF  Tin-   CIVir.   WAR. 


FortWatrner,  leavincr  iS  mins  there,  and 
seven  guns  in  Pjattcr)-  Gregg,  they  re- 
pulsed the  Unionists'  attempt  to  scale 
Fort  Sumter  and  slew  ::oo  men. 

Nor  did  the  Unionists  fare  better 
in  Florida.  They  lost  under 
General  T.  Seymour  2000  of 
his  6000  troops  at  Olustee, 
where  the  Confederates  lost 
but  730  men.  The  Unionists 
again    lost  ^--,  .,^: 

1600  out  of 
2000  men 
under  Gen.  — *| 


:^-^lM'PM/^^ 


-1^ 


RETREAT   OK   LEES   AKMY. 


\W.ssels  at 
Plymouth, 
North  Caro- 
lina, when 
the  Confed- 
erate General  Hoke's  loss 
was  but  300  men. 

In  the  Southwest, 
however,  the  Unionists* 
cause  had  gained  con- 
siderable advantages  un- 
der General  Hanks,  having 
a  command  of  30,000  men. 
Aided  by  Commodore 
Farragut,  at  Alexandria, 
La.,  he  drove  General  R. 
Taylor  and  captured  2000 
prisoners,  several  steam- 
boats, and  22  guns.  His 
assault,  however,  on  Port 
Hudson,  in  June,  was  re- 
pelled with  a  loss  of  2000 


GRANT  MADE  COMMASDIiR-IS-ClIIEP.  309 

men,  while  the  Confederates  lost  Init  ,;oo  men.  But  Port  Hudson,  as  it  was  about 
to  be  cannonaded  by  the  jj^unboats  set  free  by  the  fall  of  X'icksbur^',  was  surren- 
dered, July  6th,  by  the  Confederate  General  Gardener,  with  his  q^arrison  of  6408 
men.  ISanks'  effective  force  had  been  reduced  to  10,000.  His  total  captures 
during'  the  campaiL,ni  were  10.5S4  men,  73  _<;uns,  and  6000  small  arms.  But 
Brashear  City  had  some  days  before  been  surprised  and  captured  by  General  R. 
Tayloi  (Confederate)  with  a  Union  loss  of  1000  men  and  locruns.  The  Unionist 
General  Dudley  lost  near  1  )onaldsonville  300  prisoners,  and  at^^ain,  th(;  Unionist 
General  Franklin  with  a  lleet  and  4000  men  was  repelled  with  a  loss  of  two  iJi'un- 
boats,  15  guns,  and  250  men,  by  less  than  that  number  within  the  fort  at  Sabine 
Pass,  and  at  Teche  Bayou  the  67th  Indiana  Regiment  was  captured  entire. 

The  Red  River  e.xpeditions  in  March  and  April,  1864,  toward  Shreveport 
under  General  Banks,  from  New  Orleans,  with  a  force  of  40,000.  and  under 
General  Steel,  from  Little  Rock,  with  1 2,000,  were  disastrous  failures.  The 
former  had  to  retreat  with  a  loss  of  about  5000,  and  the  latter  was  also  beaten 
back  with  a  loss  of  2200;  but  at  Jenkins  P'erry  he  reindsed  the  Confederate 
attack  led  by  General  Kirby  Smith,  with  a  loss  of  2300.  In  August  of  this  year 
(1864)  Commodore  Farragut  executed  one  of  the  fiercest  and  most  heroic 
naval  combats  on  record.  Having  lashed  himself  to  the  mast  of  the  Hartford,  he 
advanced  with  a  lleet  of  14  wooden  steamers  and  gunboats  and  four  iron-clad 
monitors  against  Forts  Morgan  and  Gaines,  at  the  entrance  of  Mobile  Bay. 
He  ran  the  bows  of  his  wooden  vessels  full  speed  against  the  rebel  iron-clad 
Tennessee,  gaining  a  notable  victory,  which  ended  in  the  fall  of  the  forts  and 
the  city  of  Mobile. 

General  Grant  was  appointed  Commander-in-chief  of  all  the  Union  armies 
on  March  i,  1864.  Having  sent  Sherman  to  conduct  a  campaign  in  the  West,  he 
himself,  on  May  4  and  5,  crossed  the  Rapidan  for  a  direct  southerly  advance  to 
Richmond.  A  campaign  of  43  days  followed,  in  which  more  than  100,000  men, 
frequently  reinforced,  were  engaged  on  either  side.  He  was  met  by  Lee  in  the 
Wilderness,  where,  after  two  days  of  terribh:  slaughter,  the  battle  ended  without 
decided  advantage  to  either  side.  Among  the  I'nionists,  General  J.  S.  Wads- 
worth  was  killed  and  seven  generals  were  wounded,  the  entire  loss  amount- 
ing to  20,000  men.  The  Confederates  lost  8000  men,  with  Longstreet  badly 
wounded. 

Finding  Lee's  position  impregnable.  Grant  advanced  by  a  flank  movement 
to  Spottsylvania  Court  House.  Here,  on  May  iith,  Hancock,  by  a  desperate 
assault,  captured  Generals  Johnson  and  \\.  H.  .Stewart,  with  3000  men  and 
30  guns,  while  Lee  himself  barely  escaped.  But  no  fighdng,  however  desperate, 
could  carry  Lee's  works.  Sheridan  with  his  cavalry  now  made  a  dashing  raid 
toward  Richmond.  He  fought  the  Confederate  cavalry,  killed  their  General, 
J.  E.  B.  Stuart,  and  returned,  having  suffered  little  damage,  to  Grant.     General 


no 


STORY  OF  THE  CIITL   WAR. 


Butler  with  30,000  mf^n  stearrK^d  up  the  James  River  and  seized  City  Point,  with 
the  view  of  seizinL(  Petersburi,''.  He  was,  however,  too  slow,  and  in  a  fitJ^ht  with 
Beaurejrard,  near  Proctor's  Creek,  lost  4000  men,  while  the  Confederates  lost 
but  3000. 

General  Grant  reached,  May  17th,  the  North  Anna,  where  he  stained  some 
advantai'^e,  but  as  Lee  was  stronsjlv  intrenched,  he  moved  ow  ai^rain  to  Cold 
Harbor.  Here  an  assault  on  Lee  ended  with  a  Union  loss  of  1705  killed,  9072 
wounded  and  2406  missing-.  Sheridan  again  raided  Lee's  rear,  tore  up  rail- 
roads, and  burnt  stores,  and  after  having^  lost  "/^'^  men  he  returnetl  to  Grant  with 
370  prisoners.     Grant  now  pressed  on  toward  the  James  River  ;  assaults  were 


KNI'RANCE  TO  GKITYSlirRG  CEMKTERY. 


made  on  Petersburq-  with  a  loss  of  many  killed  and  5000  prisoners.  The 
Unionist  General  Wilson,  with  8000  cavalry,  while  tearing-  up  the  Danville 
railroad,  lost  1000  prisoners. 

Another  attempt  to  take  Petersburg  by  a  mine  e.xplosion  resulted  in  a 
Unionist  loss  of  4400  and  Confederate  loss  of  1000.  A  series  of  gallant 
attacks  by  the  Unionists  were  as  gallandy  repulsed.  Thus  Hancock  assailed 
Lee's  left  wing  below  Richmond,  losing  5000  men.  Warren  seized  the  Weldon 
Railroad,  at  the  e.xpense  of  4450,  while  the  Confederates  lost  but  1200.  Han- 
cock s  attempt  to  seize   Ream's  Station  ended   in  his  being  driven  back  and 


WINCHESTER  AND  ATLANTA.  2,^1 

losin<5'  2400  men.  Warren  i^raspc-d  the  .Scjuirrel  Level  Road  at  a  cost  of  2500 
men.  Butler,  however,  took  Port  Harrison,  with  115  <,nins,  but  failed  to  take 
Fort  Gilmore  after  a  loss  of  300.  The  Confederates,  attemptini^  to  retake  Fort 
Harrison,  were  beaten  back  with  a  heavy  loss.  The  Union  cavalry  under  Gen- 
eral Kautz  advanced  within  five  miles  of  Richmond,  but  were  driven  back  with, 
a  loss  of  9  guns  and  500  men.  1  lancock  tried  to  turn  the  Confederate  llank 
and  took  1000  prisoners,  but  had  to  retire  with  a  loss  of  1500. 

Thus  diis  campai^'n  of  1S64  closed  \\\i\\  a  loss  in  the  aggregate  of  87,387 
men  from  the  Army  of  the  Potomac. 

In  West  \'irginia  Sigel  was  routed  at  New  Market  by  J.  C.  Breckinridge 
with  a  loss  of  six  guns  and  700  men.  Hunter,  succeeding  Sigel,  beat  the  Con- 
federates, June  8th,  at  Piedmont,  killing  General  Jones  and  taking  1500  men,  but 
was  himself,  with  20,000  men,  soon  after  beaten  at  Lynchburg,  and  forced  to  a 
disastrous  retreat  over  the  Alleghanies  to  the  Potomac. 

This  opened  the  way  for  the  Confederate,  Early,  with  20.000  veterans,  to 
march  northward.  With  a  loss  of  but  600  he  defeated  General  Lew  Wallace 
near  Frederick,  killing  and  capturing  2000  men.  .After  threatening  Baltimore 
and  Washington  he  retreated  South  with  2500  captured  horses  and  5000  cattle. 
He  also  defeated  at  Winchester  General  Crook,  whose  loss  was  1200.  Shortly 
after  the  Unionist  General  Averill  defeated  B.  F.  Johnson's  cavalry  and  took 
500  prisoners. 

Not  long  after,  on  September  19.  1864,  Early,  after  a  brilliant  attack  by 
Sheridan  at  Winchester,  was  routetl,  losing  6000  men,  while  the  Unionists  lost 
1000  less.  At  Fisher's  Hill  .Sheridan  agai..  routed  him,  taking  16  guns  and 
1 100  prisoners;  at  Cedar  Creek,  while  Sheridan  was  absent  at  Washington, 
Early  made  a  sudden  and  determined  assault,  throwing  the  Unionists  into  a  panic- 
stricken  mob,  capturing  24  guns  and  i  200  prisoners.  .Sheridan,  by  his  famous 
ride  of  twenty  miles,  met  his  beaten  army.  He  reorganized  it,  inspired  it  to 
make  a  general  and  magnificent  attack,  and  won  a  great  victory,  recapturing 
his  24  guns,  taking  23  more,  and  1500  prisoners.  The  loss  on  either  side 
was  about  3000. 

In  the  Southwest  General  Sturgis  (Union)  with  12,000  men  routed  General 
Forrest  at  Guntown,  Miss.,  killing  and  capturing  4000.  In  East  TtMinessee 
the  Confederate  raider  Morgan  captured  1600  L'nionists  at  Licking  River,  but 
was  himself  soon  after  chased  away  with  a  loss  of  half  his  force.  During  thest 
operations  General  .Sherman  advanced  (May  18,  1864)  with  100,000  men  from 
Chattanooga.  He  was  stubbornly  resisted  by  General  J.  \i.  Johnston  with  an 
army  of  54,000.  At  Kenesaw  Mountain  .Sherman  lost  3000  men  while  the 
Confederates  lost  442.  He,  however,  kept  flanking  and  fighting  the  Confed- 
erates until  he  reached  Atlanta,  during  which  two  months  the  enemy  had  lost 
14,200  men;   but  reinforcements  kept  their  numbers  up  to  51,000.     During 


3i; 


STO/^)-  01'  nil-   CIVIL   WAR. 


these  movements  the  Confederate  General  I'olk,  who  on  acceptini^  his  commis- 
sion in  the  army  had  not  resij^ned  his  position  as  a  Hishop  of  the  Protestant 
Episcopal  Church,  was  killed  l)y  a  cannon  ball  while  reconnoitring'  on  Pine 
Mountain,  a  few  miles  north  of  Marietta.  I  lood  succeeded  Johnston,  and 
aimed  a  heavy  blow  at  Thomas,  on  Sherman's  right,  losing  4000  and  inflicting 


^-\..-.#ft:A,^_ 


r> 

I 

/ 

h' 

I 

/ 

/ ' 

/ 

1 

1 

i 

LONOSTRKl-.r    Ur.roKTlNC   AT    liKACC'S    Hr.AIXJUARTF.RS. 


a  loss  of  but  1500.  On  the  2 2d  occurred  another  great  battle  in  which 
McPherson,  a  very  superior  Union  gen*;ral,  was  killed,  and  4000  Unionists 
were  lost.  The  Confederate  loss  was,  however,  not  less  than  8000.  General 
Stoneman  whilst  raiding  Hood's  rear  was  captured,  with  1000  of  his  cavalry. 
Hood,  after  suffering  a  heavy  repulse  by  Logan,  and  another  at  Jonesboro 
by  Howard,   in    the  latter  of  which  he  lost  2000,  and  still  another  by  J.  C. 


S/I/i/ULLVS  /-JA/OL'S  MARCH.  3' 3 

Davis,  when  Jonesboro  antl  many  (runs  and  prisoners  were  taken  from 
him,  retreated  eastward,  leavini^-  Atlanta,  September  ist,  to  tlie  I  iiion  xictors. 
Beinj^  reinforced,  ho\ve\er,  so  as  to  have  about  55,000  troops,  he  returmd  for 
an  invasion  of  Tennessee.  At  bVankhn,  November  30th,  he  matle  a  desperate 
onset  aL,'ainst  Schofield,  and  was  Ijaftled,  at  an  expense  of  4500  men  to  himself 
and  of  2320  to  the  Union.  At  Xashville,  to  which  hi'  laid  siei^e,  he  was  struck 
by  Thomas,  December  15th,  with  i;reat  skill  and  determination  diu'inL;-  a  two 
days'  battle,  and  broken  to  pieces,  haxinLT  lo^t  more  than  i  3,000,  besides  seventy- 
two  pieces  of  artillery.  The  L'nion  loss  was  10,000  during;  th(-'  campaiL;n.  In 
November  and  December  Sherman  at  the  head  of  65,500,  including;'  the  cavalry 
protection  of  Kilpatrick,  e.xecutetl  his  famous  march  to  the  sea,  i.e.,  from  Atlanta 
to  Savannah.  Mis  reward  was  167  j.;uns  and  132S  prisoners  and  a  demoralized 
South.  The  Confederate  GeiU'ral  Hardee,  who  had  alrttady  evacuated  .Savan- 
nah, was  obliued  by  a  new  advance  of  .Sherman  northward,  l'\'l)riiarv,  1S05, 
to  evacuate  Charleston  also,  with  12,000  men.  A  cavalry  eni^ai^ement  took 
place  near  die  north  line  of  South  Carolina,  between  Kilpatrick  and  Wade 
Hampton,  in  which  the  former  was  surprised,  but  the  latter  finally  beat  him. 
Near  Fayetteville,  North  Carolina,  March  15th,  he  was  attacked  without  success 
by  Hardee,  now  actinij;'  under  Joseph  Johnston,  havin^f  40,000  miMi  under  his 
command  ;  and  three  days  after  at  Bentonville  by  Johnston  himself  Sherman 
lost  1643,  but  forced  Johnston  to  retire,  leaving-  267  dead  and  1625  prisoners 
and  wounded, 

I'ort  Fisher,  that  protected  the  blockade  runners  at  \Vilmini;ton,  N.  C,  was 
bombarded  by  Commodore  Porter  and  carried  by  assault  by  (leneral  A.  H. 
Teny,  January  16,  1S65.  This  victory,  purchased  at  a  cost  of  410  killetl  and 
536  wounded,  threw  into  the  Union  hands  169  q-uns  and  20S3  prisoners.  And 
Wilmington  itself  fell  about  one  month  later,  under  an  attack  by  Schofield. 

General  James  H.  Wilson,  with  15,000  cavalry  from  the  armies  of  Ciran^ 
and  Thomas,  routed  General  Forrest  at  Selma,  Ala.,  April  2d,  capturing  22 
guns  and  2700  prisoners  and  burning  125,000  bales  of  cotton.  Soon  after,  he 
captured  at  Columbus,  Ga..  52  guns  and  1200  prisoners,  besides  burning  a 
g-unboat,  250  cars,  and  115,000  cotton  bales.  He  took  Fort  Tyler  by  assault, 
but  ceased  operations  at  Macon,  Ga.,  because  by  that  time  the  rebellion  was 
crushed. 

General  Grant  restnned  operations  February  6,  1S65,  when  he  repulsed  at 
Hatcher's  Run,  at  a  cost  of  2000  troops,  the  Confederates,  who  lost  1000. 
General  Sheridan  with  10,000  cavalry  routed  Farly,  on  March  2d,  from  Waynes- 
boro, taking  1 1  guns  and  1600  prisoners,  and  joinetl  Grant  at  Petersburg  after 
having  passed  entirely  around  Lee's  army.  An  attack  by  Lee  against  P'ort 
Stetlman  was  repelled  with  a  loss  of  2500  to  the  Unionists  and  4500  to  the 
Confederates. 


314  STOKV  OF  THE  CIVIL   WAR. 

Grant,  fearini^  that  Lee  might  attempt  to  evacuate  Richmond,  threw 
Warren's  corps  and  Sheridan's  cavalry  to  the  southwest  of  Petersburg. 
Warren,  after  having  his  tlivisions  broken  by  Lee  but  re-formed  by  the  aid  of 
Griffin,  united  with  Sheridan,  who  had  been  foiled  the  day  before,  April  ist,  at 
F"ive  Forks.  Warren  and  Sheridan  now  charged  the  Confederates'  works, 
which  were  taken,  along  with  5000  prisoners.  A  general  assault  was  made  by 
the  Union  army  at  daylight,  April  2d,  when  Ord's  Corps  (Union)  carried  Forts 
Gregg  and  Alexander  by  storm.  \.  P.  Hill,  a  brilliant  Confederate  general, 
was  .shot  dead.  That  night  Lee  evacuated  Richmond,  burning  his  warehouses 
filled  with  stores.  General  Weitzel,  at  6  .\..\i.  April  3d,  entered  the  city  with 
his  men  and  was  soon  followed  by  President  Lincoln.  Petersburg  was  at  the 
same  time  abandoned.  Lee  halted  his  army,  now  dwindled  to  35,000  men,  at 
Amelia  Court  House.  Grant  rapidly  pursued.  Ewell  was  severed  from  Lee's 
rear  and  became  one  among  6000  prisoners.  Lee  heroically  pushed  on  to 
Appomatto.x  Court  House,  where  his  thghtwas  intercepted  by  Sherman  marching 
from  the  South.  Lee  was  inclined  to  renew  the  fighting  against  Sherman,  but 
his  weary  and  famished  army  stood  no  chance  against  the  fearful  odds  around 
them.  And  Lee,  to  prevent  further  useless  bloodshed,  surrendered  his  army  to 
Grant  on  April  9,  1865,  within  three  days  of  four  years  after  the  rebellion  had 
been  opened  by  the  bombardment  of  P'ort  -Sumter.  Hell  ringing,  triumphant 
salutes,  and  boundless  joy  throughout  the  L'nited  States  hailed  this  event  as  the 
close  of  the  war.  Johnston  surrendered  his  army  to  Sherman  at  Raleigh,  N.  C, 
April  26th,  and  Dick  Taylor  his,  to  Canby  at  Citronville,  Ala.,  May  4th.  The 
terms  of  the  surrender  were  magnanimous  :  "  Flach  officer  and  man  was  allowed 
to  return  to  his  home,  not  to  be  disturbed  by  the  United  States  authority  so 
long  as  they  observed  their  paroles  and  the  laws  in  force  where  they  may 
reside." 

Jefferson  Davis,  the  president  of  the  now  destroyed  Confederacy,  fled  from 
Richmond  at  the  time  of  its  evacuation.  Attended  at  first  with  a  cavalry  escort 
of  2000,  which  soon  dwindled  mostly  away,  he  was  making  his  way  toward  the 
coast,  with  his  family  and  "a  few  faithful  followers  "  when  he  was  captured  near 
Irwinsville,  Georgia.  After  an  imprisonment  of  two  years  in  Fortress  Monroe, 
he  was  released,  and  allowed  to  live  without  molestation,  mourning  the  lost 
cause,  until  he  died,  December  6,  18S9.  ' 


WILLIAM   T.  SHKRMAN. 


WILLIAM  T.  SHERMAN, 

THE    HIiKO    OK    THbi    ".MARCH    TO    THE    SEA." 

F  ALL  the  events  of  the  four  long  years  between  iS6i 
and  1S65,  none  is  more  memorable  than  the  famous 
march  of  the  Union  armv  throu<'h  Gcoruia,  in  the 
autumn  of  1864.  Although  a  Ljeneration  has  [)asse(J 
away  since  then,  black  children  who  never  knew 
slavery  and  white  children  who  never  knew  war  still 
join  in  singing  the  familiar  lines  of  the  old  chorus: — 

"Hurrah  I   hurrah!   we  hring  ihc  juliilce  ! 

llunah  I   hurrah  I   the  Hag  that  makes  \oii  free! 
So  we  sang  the  chorus  from  Atlanta  to  llie  sea, 
W'lien  we  were  marching  thro'  (leorgia." 

And  next  to  the  great  captain  to  whom  Lee  stirrendered  at  Appomattox, 
the  nation  holds  in  grateful  remembrance  the  name  and  deeds  of  William 
Tectunseh  Sherman. 

Sherman  came  of  a  New  England  family.  I  lis  father,  Charles  R.  .Sherman, 
moved  from  Connecticut  to  Ohio  early  in  this  century,  ami  was  a[)pointed  judge 
of  the  .Supreme  Court  of  the  latter  .State.  In  1829  Judge  .Sherman  died,  leaving 
his  witlow  with  eleven  children  and  an  income  of  two  huntlred  and  tifty  dollars. 
It  was  clearly  impossible  for  her  to  maintain  them  all.  Judge  Sherman  had 
many  warm  friends,  among  whom  was  Thomas  Kwing.  United  States  .S(;nator, 
who  offered  to  adopt  one  of  the  boys  into  his  own  family.  "  Which  one  sh.ill  I 
take?  "  he  asked,  when  the  time  came  to  decide  ;  "I  want  the  best  of  the  lot, 
of  course."  "Take  Cimip,  Mr.  Kwing,"  said  an  elder  sister,  jjromptly  ;  "take 
Cump, — he's  the  smartest."  .So  the  Senator  took  "  Cump,"  who  from  that  time 
had  his  place  in  Mr.  Ewing's  home,  among  his  own  sons  and  daughters.  As 
the  boy  grew  into  manhood,  a  warm  and  romantic  attachment  sprang  up  be 
tween  him  and  Senator  Ewing's  daughter  Ellen,  and  his  lively  and  graphic 
letters  to  her  while  absent  at  school  and  in  the  army  show  most  delightfully  the 
development  of  his  character. 

When  Sherman  was  si.xteen.  Senator  Ewing  secured  for  him  an  appoint- 
ment to  West  Point  Military  Academy.     He  had  then  no  wish  to  be  a  soldier^ 
19  317 


3i8  WILLIAM  T.  SHERMAN. 

hut  he  did  have  an  intense  desire  for  a  good  education,  and  this  was  an  oppor 
tunity  not  to  be  lost.  He  was  a  clost:  and  diligent  student,  and  made  good  pro- 
gress in  his  studies  ;  but  he  took  no  particular  interest  in  military  matters,  and 
gave  no  promise  of  his  future  brilliant  achic'venients  in  war,  other  than  is  found 
in  general  intelligence,  ability,  and  sound  judgment.  He  graduated  in  1S40, 
and  was  commissioned  second  lieutenant  of  artillery.  He  was  sent  first  to 
I'lorlda,  whence  the  remnants  of  the  Seminole  Indians  were  being  removed 
west  to  the  Indian  Territory,  a  policy  which  the  indepcniient  young  officer 
thought  a  mistake,  and  said  so  in  his  letters.  Then  he  was  transferred  to  Fort 
Moultrie,  in  Charleston  harbor,  where  he  passed  four  dull  years,  drilling  and 
parading,  fishing  and  hunting,  and  studying  .Southern  character  in  the  society  of 
♦  Charleston,  where  he  was  always  welcome.  After  the  .Me.xican  war,  he  was 
sf-nt  to  California,  and  in  1S50  he  returned  East  ami  married  the  sweetheart  of 
his  boyhood,  IClIen  Boyle  Kwing,  at  her  father's  house  in  Washington.  The 
wedding  was  a  brilliant  occasion.  President  Taylor  and  his  cabinet  were  pres- 
ent, with  .StMiators  Clay,  Webster,  Benton,  and  other  distinguished  persons.  It 
was  a  time  of  great  excitement  over  the  slavery  question.  Many  expected  to 
see  then  the  war  which  came  eleven  years  later,  but  which  was  deferred  by 
Clay's  famous  compromise  of  1850. 

From  his  marriage  until  the  civil  war  .Sherman  had  a  varied  experience. 
His  career  during  that  time  is  quite  similar  to  that  of  his  friend  (irant,  espe- 
cially in  the  fact  that  it  was  not  successful.  He  was  stationed  for  a  time  in  St. 
Louis,  and  then  at  New  Orleans.  In  i>S53  he  resigned  his  commission  in  the 
army,  and  In  company  with  a  friend  went  to  California,  where,  with  money 
furnish(!d  by  a  St.  Louis  capitalist,  they  started  a  bank.  For  five  years  this 
business  furnished  a  living  and  an  interesting  experience  in  a  new  country,  the'n 
"bocjming  "  after  the  discovery  of  gold  ;  but  after  the  financial  troubles  of  1S57 
the  St.  Louis  capitalist  decided  to  close  up  the  bank,  and  Sherman  returned  to 
Ohio,  without  occupation.  For  a  time  he  was  in  Kansas,  where  two  brothers- 
in-law  were  settled,  and  where  he  made  an  unsuccessful  effort  to  get  into  jjrac- 
tlce  as  a  lawver.  Then  he  turned  his  face  again  to  the  South.  At  this  time  the 
.State  of  Louisiana  was  establishing  at  New  Orleans  a  ".Seminary  of  Learning 
and  Military  Academy,"  for  the  purpose  of  <Hlucating  young  men  In  military 
tactics.  Sherman  was  well  and  favorably  known  there,  and  so  It  came  about 
that  he  was  chosen  superintendent  of  the  institution.  He  accepted  the  position 
antl  filled  it  until  January,  1S61.  He  might  have  remained  longer,  but  war  was 
impending,  the  .Southern  .States  were  seceding,  and  he  must  at  once  choose 
under  which  ilag  he  would  serve.  Every  effort  was  made  to  win  him  for  the 
South.  lUit  there  was  not  a  moment's  h(^sitation  on  his  part.  "  If  Loulsians 
withilraws  from  the  Federal  Union,"  he  wrote  to  the  governor,  "  I  prefer  to 
maintain  my  allegiance  to  the  old  Constitution  as  long  as  a  fragment  of  It  sur 


SI  11 LO 11  AND  VICKSnURG.  319 

vivos.  I  beg  you  to  take  iminediate  steps  to  relieve  me  as  superintendent  the 
moment  the  State  d(.'termines  to  secede  ;  for  on  no  earthly  account  will  I  do  any 
actor  think  any  thoui,du  hostile  to  or  in  defiance  of  the  old  government  of  the 
United  States."  So  he  lt;ft  New  Orleans  and  went  to  St.  Louis,  where  he 
became  president  of  a  street  railroad  company. 

OUTHRK.VK    OK    TIIK    WAR. 

At  the  inauguration  of  President  Lincoln,  vSherman  visited  the  White  House 
with  his  brother  John,  who  was  then  just  taking  his  seat  in  the  .Senate.  The 
soldier  was  strongly  impressed  with  the  gravity  of  the  situation,  and  urged  his 
views  on  the  President,  who  replied,  lightly,  "Oh  !  I  guess  we  shall  get  along 
without  you  fellows,"  meaning  that  he  was  still  hopeful  that  there  would  be  no 
war.  Sherman  went  back  to  .St.  Louis  in  great  disgust,  which  he  expressed  in  a 
wrathful  letter  to  his  brother.  Hut  when  .Sumter  was  fired  upon,  sokliers  sud- 
denly came  to  be  in  great  demand,  and  .Sherman  was  recalled  to  Washington. 
When  the  President's  call  for  seventy-five  thousand  men  for  three  months  was 
issued,  .Sherman  declared  the  number  utterly  inailecjuate.  He  refused  to  go  to 
Ohio  to  enlist  troops  for  three  months.  "  You  might  as  well  try  to  put  out  the 
flames  of  a  burning  house  with  a  squirt-gun,"  he  said.  In  June,  1S61,  he  was 
commissioned  as  colonel  in  the  regular  army,  and  put  in  command  of  a  fort.  He 
commanded  a  brigade  at  the  battle  of  Hull  Run,  and  did  all  that  one  man  could 
to  save  the  day  on  that  disastrous  field.  Soon  afterward  he  was  assigned  to  tluty 
in  the  .Southwest,  and  th(,'nccforward  was  Grant's  most  trusted  lieutenant.  At 
the  dreadful  battle  of  .Shiloh  he  saved  the  army  from  destruction,  (irant  said  : 
"To  his  individual  efforts  I  am  indebted  for  the  success  of  this  battle;"  and 
Halleck  in  his  despatch  bore  this  testimony:  "It  is  the  unanimous  opinion  here 
that  Hrigadier  General  W.  T.  .Sherman  saved  the  fortunes  of  the  day  on  the  6th 
of  April."  The  next  day,  wht-n  Huell's  fresh  battalions  took  the  field,  .Sherman 
atrain  led  his  battered  roLriments  into  the  fi<rht,  and  enacti'd  ovc.r  atrain  the 
heroic  deeds  of  the  day  before.  Rousseau  said,  "He  fights  by  the  week." 
Untiring  to  the  last,  he  pushetl  out  after  the  victory  and  beat  the  enemy's  cav- 
alry, capturing  a  large  supply  of  ammunition. 

During  the  long  campaign  in  the  .Southwest,  Sherman  was  one  of  the 
brilliant  group  of  commanders  wlio.  under  Grant,  captured  X'icksburg,  opened 
the  Mississijipi,  and  "  drove  a  wedge  through  the  Conft;deracy  "  eastward  to 
Chattanooga.  Then  Grant  was  made  general-in-chief  of  all  the  armies,  and 
called  away  to  direct  the  movements  of  the  forces  around  Richmond,  and  .Sher- 
man was  promoted  to  the  command  of  the  Military  Division  of  the  Mississippi, 
which  included  all  the  armies  from  the  great  river  to  the;  .Mleghanies.  From 
Chattanooga  he  fought  his  way,  inch  by  inch,  into  Northern  Georgia,  and  in 
August,  1864,  laid  siege  to  Atlanta. 


320 


U7LL/A.U  T.  r.llEKMAX 


The  .Slimmer  and  early  autumn  of  1864  were  days  of  despondency  and 
gloom.  The  awful  l)attles  in  Virj^nnia,  where  Grant  was  keepin*;  up  steadily 
that  dreadful  "  hammerin,L,f  "  which  alone  could  reduce  the  Confederacy,  had 
brou^dit  j^^rief  to  the  whole  country  ; 


and  the  ileclaration  of  the 
Chicai,fO  Convention  that 
■  the    war   is   a    failure " 
found     re- 


sponse   even 
amon<>-   those 
w  ho  had  hith- 
erto  stood   firm.     Greater  exer- 
tions and  greater  sacrifices  than 
ever  had  been  made,  and  so  far 
,^^^.-  ^^  apparently  without  result, 

^^^x"    fiB^^®ilBsk.  fiP  '^  he  first  orleam  of  light  in 

the  gloom  was  Sherman's  capture  of 
Atlanta,  on  .September  ist,  which  was 
accomplished  after  a  difficult  and  danger- 
ous campaign.  His  army  had  entered 
Georgia  at  the  Tennessee  boundary,  and  every  mile  of  his  progress  took  him 
farther  from  his  base  of  supplies.     He  was   met  at  every  step  by  the  veterans 


HATTI  E    OF    KIM-iAW    MiUNTAIN — DKATII    ri; 
(.1  SI  RAl,    I'uI.K. 


THE  GEORGIA  CAMPAIGN,  3Ji 

of  Johnston's  army,  whose?  coiniiuuKlcr  was  one  of  the  abU.-st  L^encrals  in  the 
Con fc:(.K; rate  service.  It  was  a  ha/aruoiis  jLjanie  ;  but  at  a  critical  point  Jetfer 
son  Davis  <;ave  him  most  important  aid.  Just  on  the-  (.-vt;  of  the  battle  of 
Atlanta  Davis  relieved  Johnston,  and  in  his  place-  put  the  more  dashini^  and 
reckless  Hood.  "It  isn't  a  jj^ood  plan,"  I'ri'sident  Lincoln  used  to  say,  "to 
s\va[)  horses  in  the  middle  of  a  creek  ;  "  ami  Davis's  action  proved  the  truth 
ot  Lincoln's  saying.  IIo(k1  strove  to  carry  out  Johnston's  plans,  but  without 
success,  FiLji.tint,^  and  tlankinL,^  .Sherman  drove  Hood  into  Atlanta,  and  cut 
off  all  his  sources  of  supply.  Thitrt!  was  nothini,^  left  but  to  abandon  the  city, 
which  he  did,  burninL,^  great  (piantlties  of  cotton  and  stores,  antl  on  September 
1st  .Sherman  c;ntered  and  took  poss(?ssion. 

Again  the  North  was  wild  with  delight.  \  salute  of  one  hundred  guns  was 
fired  in  Sherman's  honor  at  all  the  chii-f  military  posts.  I  \(\  was  the  hero  of  the 
hour.  He  had  won  the  first  great  success  of  1864.  That  success  turned  the 
tide  of  public  feeling,  and  assured  the  re-election  of  Lincoln  and  the  prosecution 
of  the   war.     But  greater  things  were  still  to  come. 

Georgia  was  the  great  centre  and  source  of  supply  of  the  Confederacy, — 
"the  worksho[)  and  corn-crib  of  the  .South."  If  .Sherman  ccnild  make  his  way 
through  (ieorgia  to  the  sea,  it  would  undermine  and  honeycomb  the  rebellion 
in  the  seat  of  its  strength.  He  determined  to  march  from  Atlanta  straight 
upon  .Savannah,  nearly  three  luuulred  miles  distant.  Leaving  Thomas  with  a 
strong  force  in  Atlanta,  he  abandoned  his  base  of  supplies,  cut  his  connections 
with  the  North,  and  started  on  his  march  to  the  sea. 

"MAKCIIIXG    THROUGH    GEORGIA." 

The  great  leader  knew  what  he  was  about ;  but  no  one  else  did.  Friends 
and  foes,  North  and  South,  alike  were  ignorant  of  his  plans.  Had  the  Confed- 
erate generals  known  whither  he  was  marching,  they  could  have  concentrated 
against  him  ;  not  knowing,  they  scattered  their  forces  at  different  points,  thus 
putting  no  formidable  obstacle  in  his  way.  Hood  started  for  Nashville,  hoping 
to  draw  Sherman  after  him  into  the  mountains  of  Tennessee.  This  suited  Sher- 
man e.xacdy.  "  If  Hood  will  go  to  Tennessee,"  he  said,  with  a  chuckle,  "  1  will 
furnish  him  with  rations  for  the  trip."  The  idea  of  .Sherman  actually  cutting 
loose  from  his  base  of  supplies,  and  marching  hundreds  of  miles  through  the 
heart  of  an  enemy's  country,  was  so  bold  that  it  did  not  occur  to  the  Confeder- 
ate generals  as  possible  ;  and  so,  instead  of  meeting  their  armies,  Sherman  left 
all  serious  opposition  behind  him. 

For  a  month  .Sherman  and  his  army  disappeared  from  view,  like  a  swimmer 
who  dives  under  the  surface  of  the  water.  No  one  knew  where  he  would  re- 
appear. When  President  Lincoln  was  appealed  to,  he  said,  "  I  know  which  hole 
he  went  in  at,  but  I  don't  know  which  hole  he  will  come  out  at.  "     He  felt  the 


}22  WILL/AM  T.  SHERMAN. 

utmost  confidence  in  Sherman  ;  but  there  was  intense  anxiety  in  the  North 
about  his  fate.  It  was  feared  that  he  had  walked  into  a  trap,  and  that  his  army 
had  been  annihilated. 

In  the  meantime  Sherman  was   "  marching  through  Georgia,"     His  army, 
stretched    out  in   a  great   line   thirty 

miles   from  winLf   to  winsr.   swept  an      ,  '' 

immense   path  through  the  heart  of     -/'**   -'"    -'.^  *^         '"  ¥•  ' 

the  State.     There  was  almost  no  re-  /  ^  '        ' 

sistance :  his  troops  had  -  ' 

left  behind    the  armies  .<-'  '         '  .  c^k  --V 


t'  /t/Hl 


and  their  march  was  like  a  holiday 
parade  rather  than  serious  war.  Their  source  of  supplies  was  the  country 
through  which  they  passed  :  and  it  was  the  business  of  the  hour  to  make  it 
incapable  of  furnishing  further  supplies  for  the  Confederate  armies.  To  the 
slaves  the  approach  of  the  soldiers  was  the  "  day  of  jubilee  ; "  and  thousands 


TRIUMPH  AT  SA  VANNAH.  323 

of  them  followed  the  army  on  its  progress.  Railroads  were  destroyed  and 
bridges  burned  as  the  army  moved  forward.  At  Macon,  the  capital  of  the 
State,  the  soldiers  took  possession  of  the  deserted  halls  of  legislature,  and 
General  Sherman  slept  on  the  tloor  of  the  Governor's  mansion.  At  last,  a 
month  after  leaving  Atlanta,  the  army  reached  Fort  McAllister,  at  the  mouth 
of  the  Ogeechee  river,  a  few  miles  below  Savannah.  After  a  desperate 
assault  by  Hazen's  division,  the  fort  was  captured  ;  and  the  arrival  of  the  army 
was  signaled  to  one  of  the  vessels  of  the  Union  lleet,  lying  outside,  and  thus  the 
first  news  of  Sherman's  whereabouts  was  communicated  to  the  government  at 
Washington. 

A  few  days  afterward  Savannah  surrendered,  and  on  December  23d  Sher- 
man sent  to  the  President  that  famous  despatch,  which  sent  such  gladness  to  the 
hearts  of  loyal  men  throughout  the  Union  : — 

"1  beg  to  present  you  as  a  Christmas  gift  the  city  of  .Savannah,  with  one 
hundred  and  fifty  guns  and  plenty  of  ammunition,  and  about  twenty-five  thou- 
sand bales  of  cotton." 

It  is  hardly  possible  for  a  generation  born  since  the  war  to  imagine  the 
feeling  with  which  the  news  of  Sherman's  great  march  was  received  in  the 
North.  For  four  long  years  the  cause  of  the  Union  had  been  in  suspense, 
Victories  had  been  followed  by  new  disasters,  until  the  hearts  of  Union  men 
almost  died  within  them.  Sherman's  march  was  the  first  indication  of  final 
triumph,  the  first  gleam  of  dawn  which  seemed  to  give  sure  promise  of  return- 
ing day.  Never  were  such  glad  and  thankful  hearts  as  in  the  breasts  of  those 
who  read  in  Sherman's  Christmas  message  the  prophecy  of  the  end  of  the  long 
struggle. 

After  reaching  Savannah,  the  army  rested  for  awhile,  and  Sherman  did  all 
that  he  could  to  re-organize  civil  affairs  in  that  city  and  provide  for  its  proper 
government.  Then,  on  January  16,  1865,  he  turned  his  face  northward,  and 
set  out  on  his  final  march  through  .South  and  North  Carolina,  to  meet  Grant's 
army  and  bring  the  war  to  an  end. 

A  letter  from  General  Sherman  to  his  daughter  Minnie,  then  a  little  girl, 
dated  at  Goldsboro,  North  Carolina,  March  24,  1865,  gives  a  graphic  account 
of  the  northward  march  : — 

My  Dkar  Minnie  ;  — 

I  got  liere  from  the  hattleiield  at  Bentonville,  twenty  miles  northwest  of  this  place,  yestcrdav, 
but  all  the  army  did  not  get  in  until  to-day.  We  have  been  marching  for  two  months  in  a  low, 
swampy  country,  with  very  bad  roads,  and  had  to  bridge  many  large  nvers,  so  that  we  had  a  hard 
time  besides  the  fighting,  which  seemed  the  easiest  part.  Take  your  geography  and  look  at  .South 
Carolina.  We  started  from  Savannah,  crossed  the  river,  and  occupied  t'.e  country  from  Roberts- 
ville  to  Pocotaligo.  We  then  marched  up  toward  Barnwell,  crossed  the  Salkehalchie,  and  got  on 
the  railroad  from  Midway  to  Aiken.  Then  we  marched  to  Columbia,  crossing  the  Edisto,  then 
Saluda  and  Broad  Rivers,  then  Winnsboro,  and  turned  east  to  Cheraw,  crossing  the  Catawba.     At 


324  WILLIAM  T.  SHERMAN. 

Chcraw  we  crossed  tlic  I'cdce  aiul  iiKirchcd  through  I,anraster  to  l"a\ctlc\ill(.',  North  Carolina. 
Then  we  crossed  Cape  Fear  Ri\er  antl  nuinhed  up  about  tuent\'  miles  near  Aver\sl)oro',  where  \\e 
liad  a  ]irelly  smart  battle;  then  toward  Coldshoro',  and  at  lientonville  we  had  a  real  battle,  which 
we  won,  of  course.  Here  we  have  two  railroads,  ime  goini;  down  Icj  Wilniini^lon  and  one  to  \ew- 
berne.  Ships  come  to  ihe^e  jjlaces,  and  luue  in  them  clothing;,  food,  and  horse  teed.  It  w  ill  take 
us  some  days  to  get  the  railroad  fixed  up  so  as  to  brini;  us  what  we  need,  so  that  we  mav  be  here 
some  time.  No  doubt  the  iiewspai)ers  will  publish  main'  letters,  which  you  will  read,  telling  you  all 
about  our  adventures.  You  ma\-  not  understand  how  we  tonk  Charleston  and  \Vilmini,'ton  without 
goiuL,'  near  them  ;  but  these  cities  are  (Ui  the  seashore,  where  the  comilry  is  poor,  and  all  the  people 
had  \o  eat  came  from  the  interior  by  railioad.  Now,  wluMi  m\-  army  was  in  the  interior,  we  broke 
up  the  railroads  and  ate  the  ijrovisions,  so  the  rebel  army  had  to  leave  or  starve.  I  knew  this  be- 
forehand, and  !iad  small  armies  on  ships  readv  to  t.ike  po>M'>^ioii  when  they  left.  Our  soldiers  have 
been  fi.^hting  for  Charleston  nearly  four  years,  but  they  didn't  go  about  it  right  ;  so  )du  see  what 
])Ower  is  knowledge.  I  took  Charleston,  fortifu'd  with  over  four  hundred  guns,  without  fighting  at 
all.  I  get  a  great  manv  letter-,  Some  of  which  I  answer,  and  some  of  which  Majors  Havton  and 
Hitchcock  answer  for  me.  It  is  now  nearlv  midnight,  and  I  have  written  nearly  thirtv  long  letters, 
but  have  a  great  many  more  to  write.  .  .  .  \'ou  and  Li/./,ie  must  write  more  frecpiently  now, 
for  I  supjiOMe,  hereafter,  I  will  be  near  the  sea,  and  will  ii'it  again  be  so  far  from  our  ships,  so  that  I 
will  be  able  to  write  and  receive  letters  more  freiiuentlv.  1  am  in  good  health  ;  so  is  Uiu:le  Char- 
ley. I  sent  TJ/./,ie  a  jiretty  piece  of  poetry  from  FayetteviUe,  and  now  send  you  a  jiictiue  which 
some  man  frcjin  New  York  sent  me.  It  is  a  good  [licture  ;  you  can  tell  better  than  I  if  it  be  a  good 
likeness.     .     ,     .     My  best  love  to  all. 

At  I'ialci^h  .Sh(,'rin;iii  licaril  the  ^iad  lidiiin's  of  Lett's  siirf(Mi(l(M".  and,  a  few 
clays  lat(;r,  tlie  iKnvs  of  tin;  I'tx-sidc-itt's  assassination.  ( )n  .Xpril  26th  Johnston's 
army  was  surrcndcrcil,  and  tlic  lony"  war  was  bi'oi!L;lit  to  an  end. 

TIIK    CRANK    KIAII'.W. 

On  tin;  22d  and  23d  of  May,  1S65,  the-  city  of  W'asliin^ton  saw  one  of  the 
grandest  sights  of  history.  This  was  the  final  review  of  the  Union  armies,  before 
the  disbandment.  1  )in"in!4'  tliose  two  days  tln'  loii!,;-  ranks  of  soldiers,  witli  the 
easy  swinjj^  and  perfect  drill  of  \eterans,  mo\  ed  tip  the  orand  avenue  leadino- 
from  the  Capitol  to  th<;  White  1  bjiise.  in  what  seemed  an  endless  procession. 
On  the;  rt;viewinL,^  stand,  with  the  chief  otlicers  of  the  o-overnment  and  the  oen- 
eruls  of  the  army,  stood  the;  hero  of  the  "march  ihroti^h  ("ieorg;ia  ;"  and  there 
passed  befort;  him  the  men  who  had  faced  witli  Itim  tlie  di'adly  hail  at  .Sjiiloji, 
who  ;it  his  word  swe|)t  tip  the  hei;,4hls  ot  Keiiesaw  Moiinlain,  w  lio  shared  his 
tritimpli  at  .Savannah  and  .\tlanla.  What  thotiLdits  must  ha\e  stirred  the  oreat 
comiiKuuIer's  heart  as  Ik-  received  tlie  salutes  e>i  the  d(;voled  men  whom  he  had 
so  often  \vx\  to  victory  !  What  memories  must  have  risen  of  the  bra\(-'  ones 
missing-  from  those  ranks,  who,  with  the  (Ireat  President,  had  yi\-en  their  lives 
for  that  of  the  nation  I 

Sherman's  last  campaio-n,  throiioh  .South  and  North  Carolina,  ('.xciteil  oreat 
interest  and  admiration  in  military  circles  in  Iun-o[)e.  .\  public  meetino-  of  the 
Horse  Guards,  one  of  the  "crack"   reyiments  of  the  English  army,  was  lu'ld, 


KKV.KW    OK    UMilN    ARMIlii    Al    WASHINGTON,    AT    TllK    CI  OSF.    DFTHK    WAR. 


326  WILLIAM  T.  SHERMAN. 

at  which  the  Duke  of  Cambridge,  the  commander-in-chief,  presided,  to  study 
the  campaign,  and  hear  its  military  movements  explained.  In  spite  of  the 
affinity  of  the  English  "upper  classes"  for  the  cause  of  the  South,  Sherman's 
latest  achie\ements  suddenly  made  him  the  hero  of  the  war. 

In  1 866,  when  Grant  was  promoted,  Sherman  was  made  lieutenant-general ; 
and  when  Grant  became  President,  Sherman  took  the  place  of  "General"  and 
commander-in-chief  of  the  army,  which  Grant  vacated.  This  position  he  held 
for  several  years,  when  he  retired,  and  was  succeeded  by  General  Sheridan. 

General  Sherman  was  one  of  the  most  interesting  and  picturesque 
characters  of  his  time.  He  was  the  last  survivor  of  the  great  "  war  heroes," 
and  his  popularity  grew  steadily  greater  until  the  end  of  his  life.  His  pen  was 
as  mighty  as  his  sword,  and  in  his  "  Memoirs,"  which  he  wrote  in  the  years  after 
the  war,  he  achieved  a  literary  reputation  as  unique  as  his  military  fame.  In  his 
later  years  he  was  in  great  request  at  army  reunions  and  military  and  civil  occa- 
sions of  every  sort,  and  he  became  a  most  interesting  and  impressive  speaker. 
His  utterances  were  so  generally  striking  and  important  that  Chauncey  M. 
Depew  declared  that  he  "  never  ought  to  be  permitted  to  go  anywhere  without 
being  accompanied  by  a  stenographer."  He  did  not,  however,  love  notoriety, 
and  attained  great  skill  in  evading  the  reporters,  who  were  constantly  seeking  to 
"interview  "  him.  "  Xo,  no,"  he  would  say;  "you're  a  good  fellow,  and  I  like 
your  paper  ;  but  you  mustn't  print  anything  about  me.  I  haven't  anything  to 
say  for  publication, — nothing  at  all.     I  have  had  too  much  publicity  already." 

In  politics  and  religion  General  Sherman  was  not  a  strong  partisan.  When 
in  one  of  the  presidential  campaigns  an  effort  was  made  to  learn  which  of  the 
candidates  he  favored,  he  wrote  a  humorously  non-committal  reply,  saying,  ".So 
far  as  I  have  been  able  to  learn,  General  Sherman  can  hardly  be  said  to  belong 
to  either  of  the  great  political  parties,"  and  added  that  he  had  no  doubt  that 
either  of  the  candidates  would  fill  the  position  with  credit  to  himself  and  the 
country.  In  religion  he  was  born  a  Presbyterian  and  educated  a  Roman 
Catholic.  On  one  occasion,  in  the  Georgia  campaign,  some  members  of  the 
Christian  Commission  applied  to  him  for  permission  to  pass  within  the  lines.  It 
was  a  time  when  it  was  especially  necessary  that  knowledge  of  his  movements 
should  not  get  abroad,  and  he  replied,  in  brief  fashion  : — 

"  Certainly  not.  Crackers  and  oats  are  more  necessary  for  the  army  than 
any  moral  or  religious  agency  ;  and  every  regiment  has  its  chaplain." 

His  real  religious  belief  was  probably  never  better  expressed  than  when  he 
said,  "  If  men  will  only  act  half  as  well  as  they  know  how,  God  will  forgive  the 
balance." 

General  Sherman  died  at  his  residence  in  New  York,  on  February  14, 
1891,  universally  beloved  and  lamented. 


>"•» . 


^ 


GEORGE  B.  McCLELLAN, 

FIRST    CO.VIIVlANOISR    OR    THIS    AKMV    OK    THE    POTOVIAC 


HE  first  cominantlcr  of  the  army  of  the  Potomac  has  been 

the  occasion  of  more  controversy  than  any  other  man  in 

^"-        the  recent  history  of  the  Repubhc.     He  has  had  most 

able  defenders, — for  probably  no  general  who  ever  lived 

had  such  a  power  of  inspiring  those  around  him  with  love 

and  admiration  ;  and  even  if  the  verdict  of  history  be  that 

he  lacked  some  of  the   (pialities  essential  to   the  highest 

success,  it  must  still  be  admitted  that  one  of  the  trreatest 

commanders  of  the  civil  war  was  George  B.  McClellan. 

General  McClellan  was  a  thoroughly  trained  and 
equipped  soldier.  He  was  born  in  Philadelphia  in  1S26. 
He  was  the  son  of  a  distinguished  physician,  and  had  every  advantage  of  etlu- 
cation.  He  spent  two  years  in  the  University  of  Pennsylvania,  where  he  shared 
the  honors  of  his  class.  In  1846  he  graduated  from  West  Point  as  second  lieu- 
tenant of  engineers,  and  served  in  the  Mexican  War,  securing  promotion 
for  gallant  contluct  at  Contreras  and  Churubusco.  P)etween  this  time  and  the 
breaking  out  of  the  civil  war  Captain  McClellan  was  sent  to  Europe  as  a 
member  of  the  military  commission  to  inspect  and  study  the  organization  of 
European  armies.  He  resigned  from  the  army  in  1857,  and  when  I'ort  Sumter 
fell  was  President  of  the  Eastern  Division  of  the  Ohio  and  Mississippi  Railroad. 
In  April,  1 86 1,  McClellan  offered  his  services  to  the  Government,  and  was  a|)- 
pointed  niajor  general  of  Ohio  volunteers.  His  operations  in  West  Virginia 
were  so  brilliantly  successful  that  after  the  first  batde  of  Bull  Run  he  was  placed 
in  command  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac,  and  then  of  all  the  armies  of  the 
United  States,  to  the  great  satisfaction  of  the  whole  country,  which  looked  upon 
him  as  the  greatest  military  genius  within  its  borders. 

McClellan's  transcendent  power  to  organize  great  armies,  and  inspire  them 
with  confidence  and  enthusiasm,  were  splendidly  proved  on  two  occasions, — 
first,  after  the  disastrous  battle  of  Bull  Run,  in  July,  1861,  when  out  of  the  chaos 
of  defeat  and  disorder  he  created,  equipped,  and  disciplined  the  great  Army  of 
the   Potomac  ;  and  again,  after  the  second  and  worse  Bull  Run  disaster,  in 

.S29 


330  GEORGE  B.  McCLELLAN. 

August,  1862,  when,  at  the  President's  urgent  request,  he  nobly  resumed  the 
command  of  which  he  had  been  deprived,  reori^anized  his  beaten  and  demoral- 
ized army  with  marvelous  skill  and  celerity,  anil  defeated  Lee  at  the  memorable 
battle  of  Antietam.  Unfortunately,  from  tiie  b(*ginninjj^  there  was  discord 
between  him  and  the  War  Department,  which  increas(;d  the  enormous  difficulty 
of  his  task.  The  forces  at  \Vashin_i(ton  were  disjjirited,  raw,  and  frightened. 
McClellan  had  to  bring-  order  out  of  chaos,  to  create  an  army,  and  to  defend 
the  capital.  His  enforced  delay  was  looketl  on  with  suspicion  by  the  Govern- 
ment, and  Secretary  Stanton  greatly  embarrassed  him  by  constantly  urgmg  a 
f(jrward  movenu'iit.  "  ( live  McClellan  a  million  m<-n."  said  Stanton,  c()ntem|) 
tuously,  "and  he  will  swear  the  enemy  has  twf)  million,  and  sit  down  in  the 
mud  and  yell  for  three  million  !  "  The  plans  of  the  campaign,  too,  were  the 
cause  of  differences  between  the;  general  and  the-  .Secretary  of  War.  Then 
came  the  Peninsula  campaign,  with  the  advance  on  Richmond,  the  battles  of 
Fair  Oaks  and  Gaines's  Mill,  and  the  great  conllict  at  Malvern  Hill,  where  I.ee 
was  defeated,  and  the  confusion  and  disorder  in  the  Confederate  ranks  were 
so  great  that  Richmond  could  have  been  captured  had  the  Union  forces  been  in 
condition  to  advance. 

In  the  meantime.  General  McClellan  had  lost  the  confidence  of  the  admin- 
istration. His  requests  for  continued  reinforcements  were  disregarded  ;  he  was 
ordered  to  evacuate  the  Peninsula,  and  was  relieved  of  command  until  after  the 
Second  Pull  Run.  In  that  terrible  emerge-ncy,  when  Pope  resigned  the  com- 
mand of  the  Army  of  \'irginia,  the  Government  turned  to  McClellan  as  the 
only  man  who  could  inspire  confidence  and  restore  order.  When  the  soldiers 
knew  that  "Little  Mac"  was  again  in  command,  their  joy  and  renewed  hope 
were  unbounded.  Flushed  with  his  recent  victories,  Lee  was  marching  into 
Maryland,  and  McClellan  had  to  cover  Washington  and  at  the  same  time  stop 
the  invasion.  Antietam  was  the  great  battle-ground  of  this  UKnement.  While 
it  is  often  called  a  drawn  battle,  the  forcing  back  of  the  Confederate  line  and 
the  retreat  of  Lee  across  the  Potomac  stamp  Antietam  as  really  a  great  victory. 

It  was  asserted  that  if  General  McClellan  had  attacked  the  Confederate 
forces  with  all  the  power  at  his  disposal  after  the  battle  of  Antietam,  and  pur- 
suetl  Lee  into  X'irginia,  the  Confederate  army  could  have  been  crushed.  Still, 
General  McClellan  needed  sup[)lies  of  all  kintls,  his  army  was  useil  up,  and  he 
did  what  was  best  in  his  judgment.  Moreover,  it  is  now  known  that  the  only 
order  given  to  McClellan  was  one  which  gave  him  command  only  of  "  the 
forces  for  the  defense  of  the  capital,"  and  which  could  not  by  any  stretch  of 
construction  be  taken  to  authorize  an  offensive  movement  into  Virginia. 
McClellan  himself  declared  that  he  fought  the  batde  of  Antietam  "  with  a  rope 
around  his  neck,"  and  with  the  certainty  that  if  he  had  lost  the  battle  he  would 
have  been  hanged  for  exceeding  his  orders.     As  soon  as  he  received  orders 


HIS  VINDICA  TION. 


33« 


md  supplies  he  marched  against  Lei',  and  was  on  the  eve  of  battle,  in  a  most 
favorable  position,  when  he  was  suddenly  relieved  of  his  command,  wliich  was 
conferred  on  Burnside. 

General  McClellan,  though  set  aside  l)y  tlie  Government,  never  lost  his 
hold  upon  the  p(,'ople.  The  army  idolized  him,  and  his  popularity  followed  him. 
The  most  substantial  proof  of  his  popularity  was  his  nomination  at  Chicago  as 
the  Democratic  candidate  for  the  Presidency  in  1S64.  Although  the  time  was 
111  chosen,  and  McClellan  himself  never  sought  the  nomination,  he  received  a 
popular  vote  ot 
1,800,000  against 
3,200,000  for  Lin- 
coln. 

For  a  decade 
after  the  war  Gen- 
eral McClellan 
was  severely  crid- 
cised  and  vigor- 
ously assailed  for 
over  cautiousness, 
alleged  hesitancy, 
and  failure  to 
grasp  the  oppor- 
tunities which  his 
enemy  placed  in 
his  way.  With 
later  years  his 
reputation  has 
been  to  a  large 
extent  cleareil  of 
blame  for  results 
which  were  often 
beyond  his  con- 
trol, and  he  is  now 
given  his  deser\-ed  place  among  the  great  leaders  of  the  war. 

The  opinions  of  the  Confederate  commanders  as  to  McClellan's  abilities  as 
a  general  are  naturally  of  especial  weight.  It  is  related  that  after  the  second 
battle  of  Bull  Lun,  when  the  Confederate  armies,  elated  by  their  victories,  were 
pouring  across  the  Potomac  for  the  invasion  of  the  North,  Lee  one  day 
received  a  dispatch  which  seemed  to  be  of  great  importance.  One  of  his  sub- 
ordinates, seeing  him  read  it,  was  anxious  to  know  its  contents,  "What  is  the 
news?"  he  inquired  of  Lee. 


STATir.   OF    Mcrl.I'I.IAN    IN    riTV    IIAM,   SOfARK,    rHH.ADF.LrHIA, 


332  GEORGE  />'.  McCLELLAN. 

„n,  "^^;^  ''^'''  ""^^'^  possible,"  replied  the  Confederate  commander,  gravely. 
McUcllan  is  in  cowmaud  again." 

Until  his  death  at  ()ran.<re,  N.  J.,  in  1885,  General  McClellan  lived  an  active 
life.  He  was  En.<r,neer-in-Chief  of  the  Department  of  Docks  in  New  York  in 
1872,  was  elected  Governor  of  New  Jersey  in  1877.  and  in  1881  was  appointed 
by  Congress  a  member  of  the  Hoard  of  Managers  of  the  National  Home  for 
Disabled  Soldiers.  He  declined  many  tempting  business  offers  and  invitations 
irom  colleges  to  accept  their  presidency. 

_  General  McClellan  was  about  five  feet  eight  inches  in  height,  finely  built 
ivith  broad  shoulders.  He  was  very  solid  and  muscular,  and  an  excellent  horse- 
man. Modest  and  retiring,  he  had  withal  a  great  self-respect,  a  gracious  dignity 
His  personal  magnetism  was  unparalleled  in  military  history,  except  by  that  of 
the  first  Napoleon  :  he  was  literally  the  idol  of  his  officers  and  men  They 
would  obey  h.m  when  all  other  control  failed.  As  a  student  of  military  history 
he  had  no  superior  in  his  systematic  knowledge  of  war,  battles,  and  tactics 
He  was  a  man  of  irreproachable  character.-a  model  Christian  gentleman  in 
every  situation  of  i;f<-.  ^ 


r7 

1  'iV 

;,  '.■■[': 

1 

j^^^vA^S^^H^^^H 

t 

^e 

JMBi 

I'HILIP   H.  SHliKIDAN. 

334 


^^^^^'^'^Sy^.,^mm)Lmxr;*.*tmi'^'^'" 


,..T«1K  ■M'TOwisiJ^i"*'-' "•"'*'*'*^  ■'■  - 


LNllKLl   SIAIES    I21.NCI1    l)kthl_li   LUAlllMJ    MoKlAK,    IJR    IIUWI  1 /.I.K. 


PHILIP  H.  SHERIDAN, 

THE     HERO    OK    THE    "VALLEV    C.\  VIPAIGN. 


O  victory  of  the  L'nion  armies  in  tlu;  civil  war  was  more 
inspiring  tiian  that  won  by  General  Sheridan  at  W'in- 
\jL^l^      chestiT,  in   (October,    1S64,  —  and  inspirinL;- victories 
'^j-j^'  ^^'*'''^-  '^^  '^'"''^t  time  very  much  needed.     An  account  of 
^  *'    that  battle  is  also  a  picture  of  Sheridan's  character, 
for  it  was  the  simple  force  of  his  presence  and  per- 
sonality which  transformed  demoralized  fugitives  into 
determined  fighters,  each  feelinijf 

as  though  'twere  he 
On  whose  sole  arm  hung  'ictory. 

Sheridan  was  a  poor  Irish  lad,  born  in  Somerset,  Ohio,  in 
1 83 1.  He  managed  to  get  from  the  Congressman  of  his 
district  an  appointment  to  West  Point,  where  his  hot  temper  was  perpetually 
introducing  premature  war.  He  barely  succeeded  in  graduating  in  1853.  In 
the  early  part  of  the  civil  war  he  was  in  Missouri,  and  he  distinguished  himself  at 
the  battles  of  Murfreesboro  and  Chickamauga.  But  it  was  in  the  latter  part 
of  the  war  that  he  won  his  highest  fame. 

One  of  the  most  glorious  victories  of  the  war  was  won  by  Grant's  armies 

20  -)  ->  r 

000 


336  PHILIP  H.  SHERIDAN. 

at  the  battle  of  Chattanoojra,  when  the  Union  troops  stormed  the  heights  of 
Lookout  Mountain  and  Missionary  Ridge.  Sheridan  was  in  command  of  one  of 
the  four  divisions.  Emerging  from  the  timber  in  which  the  lines  were  formed, 
the  troops  charged  at  double-quick  across  an  open  plain,  against  the  first  line 
of  ritle-pits,  at  the  foot  of  the  ridge.  The  Confederates  were  driven  out  of  the 
works,  some  killed,  and  many  captured.  The  Union  troops  did  not  stop  for 
further  orders,  but  rushed  on  up  the  ascent,  against  the  second  line,  half-way  to 
the  summit. 

At  this  moment  a  messenger  came  from  Grant  with  word  that  only  the  first 
line  of  works  was  to  be  attacked.  Hut  it  was  too  late  ;  already  the  men  were 
pressing  on  up  the  hill  in  the  face  of  a  storm  of  bullets.  To  order  them  back 
was  out  of  the  question.  They  rushed  on  with  a  cheer,  carried  the  second  line 
of  ritle-pits,  and  met  the  enemy  in  a  desperate  hand-to-hand  fight  on  the  summit. 
The  Confederates  were  driven  from  their  guns  and  sent  fiying  down  the  oppo- 
site slope,  pursued  by  a  show-er  of  stones  from  the  Union  forces,  who  had  not 
time  to  reload.  Before  all  of  Sheridan's  men  had  reached  the  crest,  the  demor- 
aliz(Ml  troops  of  Bragg  were  seen,  with  a  large  train  of  wagons,  fiying  along  the 
valley,  half  a  mile  below. 

It  was  Sheridan's  conduct  in  this  brilliant  assault  which  gave  Grant  the 
implicit  confidence  in  him  which  he  always  afterward  felt ;  and  when,  a  few 
months  afterward.  Grant  was  made  general-in-chief,  he  at  once  desired  to  have 
Sheridan's  assistance  in  X'irginia.  Thus  it  was  that  the  great  cavalry  leader 
came;  to  win  his  brilliant  victories  in  the  Shenandoah  X'alley  and  before  Rich- 
mond. 

In  1S64,  the  Confederate  general  Early  made  his  famous  movement 
through  the  .Shenandoah  \"alley  and  into  Maryland,  threatening  Washington  and 
Baltimore,  and  even  Philadelphia.  Disaster  seemed  imminent.  A  part  of  the 
army  before  Richmond  was  detached  and  sent  north  to  protect  Washington  ; 
and  then  ("irant  dispatched  Sheridan  with  his  cavalry  to  the  \'alley.  Some 
weeks  passed  in  waiting  and  maneuvering,  .Sheridan  being  determined  not  to 
attack  until  he  could  get  the  enemy  at  a  disadvantage.  Meantime  the  country 
was  impatient.  Grant  visited  Sheridan,  e.xpecting  to  suggest  a  plan  of  opera- 
tions ;  but  h(»  found  Sheridan  ready  for  battle,  and  only  waiting  the  proper 
moin(Mit  to  strike;,  so  he  wisely  decided  to  leave  him  to  his  own  judgment.  At 
last  l^arly  unwisely  divided  his  command,  and  his  watchful  antagonist  attacked 
him,  Hanked  him  right  and  left,  and  liroke  his  lines  in  every  direction,  and  sent 
his  defeated  troops,  as  .Sheridan  said  in  his  famous  despatch,  "  whirling  through 
Winchester,"  with  a  loss  of  4500  men.  "  The  results,"  said  Grant,  with  his 
quiet  humor,  "were  such  that  I  have  never  since  deemed  it  necessary  to  visit 
General  .Sheridan  before  giving  him  orders." 

Sheridan  was  not  content  with  a  partial  victory — he  never  was.     He  pur 


BATTLE  OF  CEDAR  CREEK.  337 

sued  Early  for  nearly  thirty  miles,  and  just  when  he  thousrht  himself  safe  and 
beyond  reach,  attacked  him  at  once  in  front  and  on  the  tlank,  routed  him 
completely,  and  captured  11 00  prisoners  and  sixteen  guns.  Again  he  pursued 
his  antagonist,  and  drove  him  ompletely  out  of  the  Valley  and  into  the  gaps  of 
the  Blue  Ridge.  "  Keep  on,"  saitl  Grant,  "and  your  work  will  cause  the  fall 
of  Richmond."  This  double  victory  had  a  startling  effect  both  at  the  North  and 
South.  The  Northern  people  were  jubilant ;  the  troops  of  Early  were  thor- 
oughly beaten  and  disheartened.  The  mob  in  Richmond,  disgusted  at  Early's 
repeated  defeats,  sarcastically  labeled  the  fresh  cannon  destined  for  his  u::e, 

To  Genkral  Sheridan, 

Care  of  General  Early. 

Sheridan,  however,  had  so  devastated  the  Valley  that  it  would  not  furnish 
him  support,  and  he  retired  to  Cedar  Creek.  From  this  point  he  was  called  to 
Washington  for  consultation  ;  and  while  absent,  the  enemy  attacked  his  forces 
in  camp,  drove  them  back  in  disorder,  and  captured  eighteen  guns  and  nearly  a 
thr.usand  prisoners.  Sheridan,  returning  from  Washington,  stopped  over  night 
rt  Winchester.  At  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning,  while  riding  forv.-ard  to  join  his 
army,  he  heard  the  sound  of  heavy  firing,  and  knew  at  once  that  a  battle  was  in 
progress.  Soon  he  began  to  meet  fugitives  from  the  scene  of  battle.  He  took 
in  the  situation  at  a  glance,  and  rode  forward  at  a  gallop,  swinging  his  hat,  and 
shouting,  "  Face  the  other  way,  boys,  face  the  other  way.  We're  going  back  to 
lick  them  out  of  their  boots  !  "  His  presence  and  words  were  electrical.  The 
scattered  soldiers  faced  about,  and  took  up  the  general's  cry,  "  Face  the  other 
way  !  "  They  followed  him  to  the  front,  met  the  enemy's  forces,  and  quickly 
brought  them  to  a  stand.  As  soon  as  it  was  known  that  .Sheridan  was  again  in 
command,  it  became  impossible  to  rally  the  Confederate  forces.  A  terror  of  the 
Union  general  had  seized  them.  The  captured  guns  were  all  retaken,  and 
twenty-four  pieces  besides.  Of  the  Confederates  1800  were  killed  and  wounded 
and  1600  taken  prisoners.  Early  himself  escaped  with  difficulty.  This  famous 
battle,  celebrated  in  song  and  story,  was  one  of  the  most  important  successes  in 
the  campaign  of  1S64. 

During  the  winter  Sheridan  remained  near  Winchester,  and  early  in  1S65 
joined  the  forces  in  front  of  Richmond.  On  the  way  he  met  l^arly  at  Waynes- 
boro ;  and  there  he  fought  his  final  battle  with  the  Confederate  commander. 
His  attack  was  impetuous  and  irresistible.  The  troops  charged  over  the  breast- 
works and  forced  their  way  straight  through  Early's  lines  to  the  rear,  where  they 
turned  and  held  the  approach  to  the  Shenandoah,  with  the  Confederates  sur- 
rounded front  and  rear.  Early's  entire  force  laid  down  their  arms  and  surrcn 
dered.  Sheridan  had  destroyed  both  Early's  army  and  his  reputation.  Lee 
relieved  him  of  all  command,  and  he  retired  in  disgrace. 


33^ 


PHILIP  II  SHERIDAN. 


Proceedinc^  on  his  way  to  Richmond,  Sheridan  destroyed  forty-six  canal 
locks,  forty  bridges,  twenty-three  railroad  bridges,  and  forty-one  miles  of  railroad, 
besides  mills,  warehouses,  and  stores,  which  would  afford  support  to  the  enemy. 
On  the  25th  of  March  he  joined  Grant's  forces  on  the  James  river,  and  took  a 
most  important  part  in  the  final  campaign  which  ended  in  Tree's  surrender. 


C5KNKRAL   SHKRIDAN    Tl'RMNt!    DKl-KAT    INTO    VH'lllHY    AT    CKHXK    CKKKK. 


Lee  evacuated  Richmontl,  and  was  proci^eding  to  the  southwest,  intending  to 
join  the  army  of  Johnston  in  Xo'"t!i  Carolina.  That  this  intention  was  frustrated 
is  largely  due  to  the  skill  and  activuy  of  Sheridan,  who  with  his  cavalry  inter- 
cepted Lee's  forces  at  Five  Forks,  cut  off  his  supplies  of  food,  and  mach;  it 
impossible  to  longer  maintain  the  contest.     On  April  9th  the  great  Confederate 


CUSTER'S  ENTHC/S/ASM. 


339 


commander  surrendered,  and  the  important  part   which  Sheridan  took  in  the 
campaign  passed  into  history. 

Sheridan  was  one  of  the  most  original  and  striking  characters  developed 
by  the  war.  He  was  a  tireless  soldier,  always  on  the  alert,  always  eager  for 
battle,  and  determined  to  win  it.  His  enthusiasm  and  daring  were  infectious, 
and  he  was  idolized  by  the  men  who  served  under  him.  After  one  of  his 
victories,  wlien  the  enemy  was  retreating,  General  Custer,  then  a  young  and 
romantic  soldier,  was  so  filled  with  admiration  for  his  chief  that  he  threw  his 


UNITKII   STATKS    MIl.ITAKV    TKLEORAI'll    WAlioN. 


arms  around  him  and  kissed  him.  Sheridan  understood  and  appreciated  the 
tribute  ;  but  he  was  anxious  to  start  in  pursuit  of  the  enemy,  '-and  Custer  lost 
time,  you  know,"  he  said, — "he  lost  /////r." 

Courage  and  dash  always  won  Sheridan's  heart,  .\fler  a  bold  movement 
the  words  of  praise  came  likt;  a  hot  torrent  from  his  li|)s,  causing  the  cheek  of 
their  recipient  to  flush  and  glcnv.  The  inlluence  of  his  personal  presence  was 
extraordinary.  It  was  a  grand  sight  to  see  him  ride  swiftly  along  the  lines  just 
before  a  charge,  and  raise  the  enthusiasm  of  the  troops  to  fever  heat.  At  the 
battle   of  Winchester,   when   the   "old   Sixth  Corps "  rode   across  the  field   in 


3-40  PHILIP  H.  SHERIDAN. 

splendid  array  to  attack  Early's  centre,  Sheridan  rode  along  their  flanks  and 
cried  out, — 

"Men  of  the  Sixth,  our  victory  to-day  depends  upon  you  !" 
These  electric  words  passed  from  lip  to  lip,  and,  animated  by  the  confidence 
of  their  commander,  the  veteran  troops  carried  their  tattered  colors  forward  and 
clean  throu.c^h  the  Confederate  centre.  Then  the  forces  of  Early  were  com- 
pletely routed,  and  sent  "  whirlincr  through  Winchester,"  as  Sheridan  expressed 
It  in  his  famous  dispatch. 

After  the  war  and  durin.<r  the  "  reconstruction  period  "  Sheridan  was  placed 
in  command  in  Louisiana.  In  the  conflict  of  President  Johnson  with  Concrress 
he  supported  the  latter,  for  which  he  was  removed  by  the  President.  Grant 
protested  a-ainst  this  injustice,  and  when  he  was  elected  President,  Sheridan 
was  made  lieutenant-general.  Upon  Sherman's  retirement  from  the  chief  com- 
mand  of  the  regular  army,  Sheridan  took  his  place,  and  remained  until  his 
death.     He  died  at  Nonquitt,  Massachusetts,  August  5,  1S88. 


w^^TT^"!^^'^ 


GEORGE  G.  MEADE. 


342 


GEORGE  G.  MEADE. 

THE    VICTORIOUS    COiM  MAN  UICK    AT    OETTYSBURO 

,_^  O  day  in  the  history  of  the  United  States  Is  more  memor- 
able than  July  4,  1863.  That  anniversary  of  the  birth 
^^  of  the  nation  marked  the  turning  of  the  tide  In  the 
J  ,,  great  civil  war.  The  army  of  Lee,  pouring  into 
%*^^-----  Pennsylvania  for  the  invasion  of  the  North,  was  met 
by  the  Union  forces  on  the  field  of  Gettysburg,  and 
after  a  three-days  battle  was  defeated  and  driven  back 
into  Virginia,  never  again  to  cross  the  Potomac.  For 
those  three  di^ys  the  fate  of  the  nation  hung  in  the 
balance  ;  and  only  those  who  remember  that  fearful  time 
can  fully  appreciate  what  is  due  to  the  brave  commander  of 
the  Union  armies.  General  George  G.  Meade. 
The  batde  culminated  on  the  third  day,  beginning  with  one  of  the  most 
terrific  cannonades  of  the  war.  It  was  Lee's  supreme  effort.  After  two  days 
of  dreadful  but  indecisive  battle,  he  sent  forth  the  llower  of  his  army,  under 
General  Pickett,  to  make  that  attack  on  Cemetery  Hill  which  has  passed  into 
history  as  one  of  the  greatest  charges  on  record.  Five  thousand  veterans  of 
the  Confederate  army,  tried  in  the  fire  of  many  a  desperate  battle,  formed  on 
Seminary  Ridge,  and  moved  with  the  precision  of  a  machine  across  the  valley 
which  lay  between  the  two  armies.  As  the  terrible  cannonade  from  the  Union 
guns  made  gaps  In  their  ranks,  they  were  quickly  closed  up,  and  the  column 
moved  forward  with  swifter  steps,  but  still  in  perfect  order,  toward  the  Union 
centre  on  Cemetery  Hill.  The  infantry  defending  the  hill  reserved  their  fire 
until  the  charging  column  was  within  short  range  ;  and  then  burst  forth  an  awful 
storm  of  bullets,  before  which  the  advance  line  of  the  Confederates  withered, 
The  second  line,  undismayed,  rushed  forward  over  the  bodies  of  their  comrades, 
and  were  close  upon  the  Union  gunners  at  their  pieces.  For  a  time  the  force 
of  the  charge  seemed  Irresistible  ;  but  now  the  attacking  column  became  the 
centre  of  a  converging  fire  from  front  and  both  flanks,  which  was  rapiflly  anni- 
hilating them.  The  divisions  of  Wilcox  and  Pettlgrew,  which  were  supporting 
Pickett,  had  fallen  back,  and  his  column  was  left  to  meet  the  deadly  storm  alone 

343 


344  GEORGE  G.  MEADE. 

It  was  cl(,-arly  impossible  to  hold  their  position,  and  the  order  was  L,Mvcn  to  with- 
draw. (  )f  the  lixc  thousand  nuMi  who  had  ailvanced  in  such  perfect  order, 
thirty-live  huntlred  were  killed,  wcnnuled,  or  prisoners  in  the  hands  ot"  the  Union 
army.  The  remainder  of  the  division  fell  back,  shattered  and  brokcMi,  to  the 
Confederate  lines.  I'he  title  was  turned.  Meade  had  successfully  tU^feated 
Lee's  attack,  and  th(;  Confederate  army,  after  terrible  losses,  commenced  its 
retreat  throu^ih  .Mar\land  and  across  the  Potomac,  never  asjain  to  invade  the 
North, 

" 'I'hey  fell,  who  lifted  iij)  a  haiid 
And  bade  the  sun  in  iiea\en  to  >iand; 
They  smote  and  fell,  who  set  the  liars 
Against  the  progreri^  of  the  stars. 

And  stayed  the  inarch  of  Motherland. 

"  They  stood,  who  saw  the  future  come 
On  through  the  fight's  delirium  ; 
They  smote  and  stood,  who  held  the  hojie 
Of  nations  on  that  >li]p|iery  sloj;e, 
Amid  the  cheers  of  Christendom. 

"God  lives;  he  forged  the  iron  will 
'I'liat  clutched  and  held  that  trembling  liilL 
Odd  lives  and  reigns;  he  built  and  lent 
The  heights  for  l-'reedom's  battlement, 
Where  floats  her  flag  in  triumj.h  still." 

In  the  campain-ns  before,*  Richmond  in  1S64,  Meade  continued  in  command 
of  the  .\nny  of  the  Potomac,  and  ( jrant  t(.-stilied  that  he  always  found  him  "  the 
riyht  man  in  the  riojit  place."  In  1866  he  r(,'ceived  the  thanks  of  Cono-r(!ss  for 
the  skill  ami  heroic  valor  with  which,  at  Gettysbllr|^^  he'  repulsed,  defeated,  and 
drove  back,  dispirited,  the  veteran  army  of  the  rebellion." 

"  The  country,"  says  Colonel  A.  K.  McChir(.',  writinLf  of  "  Our  Unrewarded 
Heroes,'  "  has  n(*ver  done;  justice!  to  (General  Meade  as  a  military  commander. 
.  .  .  The  man  who  foug-ht  and  won  the  battle  of  (iettysburo'  should  have  been 
the  commander-in-chief  of  the;  armies  of  the  Union,  and  h(dd  that  position  din'inof 
life.  It  was  the  or^at  battle  of  the  war  ;  it  was  the  \Vat<;rloo  of  the;  Cf)nf(;der. 
acy,  and  the  victory  then  achieved  was  won  l)y  the  skill  of  the  commandino- 
i/eneral  and  the  heroism  of  his  army.  .  .  .  That  army  was  the  sinide  hope  of 
the  nation,  for  had  it  been  defeated  in  a  ,c,^reat  battle,  W'ashini^ton  and  the;  wealth 
of  our  I'^astern  cities  would  have  been  at  the  mercy  of  the  insuroents.  It  was 
an  occasion  for  the  most  skillful  and  prudent  g'en(;ralship,  united  with  the;  o-reat 
courac^e  essential  to  command  successfully  in  such  an  emerq-ency.  All  these 
hio^h  requirements  General  Meade  fully  met,  and  the  most  critical  e.xamination 
of   the    record    he  made    in    the;   GettysburLj   campaign  develops    nothing  but 


346 


GEORGE  G.  MEADE. 


what  heightens  his  qualities  for  the  peculiarly  grave  emergency  that  confronted 
him." 

General  Meade  did  not  receive  the  promotion  to  which  many  thought  that 
his  great  services  at  the  battle  of  Gettysburg  entitled  him  ;  "  and  he  went  down 
to  his  grave,"  says  Colonel  McClure,  "one  of  the  sorrowing  and  unrewarded 
heroes  of  the  war."  He  died  in  Philadelphia  in  November,  1872,  in  a  house 
which  had  been  presented  to  his  wife  by  his  countrymen.  A  fund  of  one  hun- 
dred thousand  dollars  was,  after  his  death,  subscribed  for  his  family. 


LATKbT    MODEL   UF   GATLINU    l-lliLU   GUN. 


illii||ipiuiiipfi§|p|.yiiii|ii  ,1  iiiiiiniii  I  nil  iiiiiiip 


I'/i':,;-*  » ■ ', 


GEORGE    H.  THOMAS. 


348 


GEORGE  H.  THOMAS, 

THE    OREAT    UNION     GENERAL*. 


AMP!,"  say M  II;:»tic(;  Grcoley,  "  is  a  vapor  ;  popularity  an 
acciclc'ii>\"  No  one  of  the  j^^reat  commanders  whose  skill 
and  courajj^e  won  victory  for  the  nation  in  the  _<;reat  civil 
war  l){;tter  exemplifies  the  truth  of  Greeley's  sayinc;'  than 
General  Thomas.  His  abilities  were  of  the  V(-'ry  hiL;h(.'st 
order.  '•  He  was,"  says  a  most  competent  critic,  "  one  of 
the  very  few  commanders  who  never  committed  a  serious 
military  error,  who  never  sacrificed  a  command,  and  who 
never  lost  a  batdc."  His  private  character  was  without  a 
stain.  He  was  the  ideal  of  a  soldier  and  a  i^entleman. 
Vet,  as  he  was  too  modest  to  seek  promotion  or  conspicuous 
position,  his  fame  is  small  indeed  in  comparison  with  the  value  of 
the  services  he  rendered  to  the  country. 
George  Henry  Thomas  was  born  in  Southampton  county,  \'^IrL(inia,  on 
July  31,  1S16.  He  was  oraduated  from  West  Point  in  1S40,  andwon  promo- 
tion for  bravery  in  the  Mexican  war.  At  the  outbreak  of  the  civil  war  he  was 
in  Texas,  but  re|)orted  at  once  for  duty,  and  was  placed  in  command  of  a  brig^ade 
in  Northern  Mr^inia. 

General  Fhomas  especially  di«;tln<^uished  himself  durintj  the  war  in  three 
great  batdes, — the  first  in  Kentucky,  where,  in  January,  1S62,  he  defeated  the 
Confederate  general,  Zollikoffer,  at  Mill  Spring,  on  the  Cumberland  river.  This 
was  the  first  real  victory  of  the  war  ;  and  for  it  General  Thomas  received  the 
thanks  of  the  Legislature,  but  no  promotion.  The  chivalrous  generosity  with 
which  he  refused  promotion  when  it  was  offered  at  the  expense  of  others,  stood 
in  his  way  throughout  the  whole  war,  and  he  at  no  time  held  the  rank  to  which 
he  was  justly  entitled. 

The  second  of  Thomas's  great  battles  was  that  of  Chickamauga,  in  Septem- 
ber, 1863.  In  this  battle  it  was  Thomas  alone  who  saved  the  Union  army  from 
utter  ruin.  The  scene  of  the  conflict  was  in  the  mountains  of  East  Tennessee, 
when  Bragg  attempted  to  capture  Chattanooga  and  the  roads  leading  to  it.  Again 
and  again  the  Confederate  troops  assaulted  Thomas's  position,  behind  a  rude 

349 


350 


GEORGE  H.  THOMAS. 


breastwork  of  loj^^s  and  rails  :  but  their  most  desperate  attacks  failed  to  dis- 
lodge him,  and  his  firmness  saved  the  army  from  disastrous  defeat.  This  battle 
gave  him  the  name  of  "The  Rock  of  Chickamauga." 

The  third  of  his  great  campaigns  was  that  of  Nashville,  which  was  the  only 
one  where  he  was  in  full  command  ;  and  this  has  been  pronounced  the  most 
completely  successful  battle  of  the  war.  Hood  marched  north  from  Atlanta  into 
Tennessee,  leaving  Sherman  behind  I'lii'^i  to  make  the  great  "  march  to  the  sea," 
and  moved  against  Thomas,  who  fortified  himself  in  Nashville.  His  superiors, 
Sherman,  Grant,  and   Stanton,  were   impatient    for  him  to   attack   Hood  ;    but 


,\    R  \II  R"\n    Il\TTrRY. 


Thomas  said  he  was  not  yet  ready,  and  refused.  Grant  called  him  "slow;* 
Sherman,  writing  to  Grant,  complaincxl  of  his  "  proxoking,  obstinate  delay  ;' 
.Stanton  wrote  to  Grant  that  "This  looks  like  the  McClellan  and  Rosecrans. 
policy  of  do  nothing,  and  let  the  enemy  raid  the  country."  lUit  Thomas  would 
ncU  be  hurried  into  action  befoie  he  was  ready,  insisting  that  he  ought  to  know 
when  it  was  best  to  fight.  .\n  f)rder  was  actually  issued  for  his  removal,  but,  for- 
tunately, was  revoked.  When  at  last  he  was  ready  to  attack  Hood,  a  storm  of 
rain  and  sleet  covered  the  ground  with  a  coating  of  ice,  which  made  it  Impos- 
sible to  move.     But  finally,  in  January,  1865,  he  made  the  attack,  and  in  a  two 


BA  TTLE  OF  NASH\  'I LIE.  3 5 1 

days  battle  won  the  most  complete  victory  of  the  war.  The  army  of  Ilootl  was 
not  merely  defeated,  but  dispersed  and  annihilated.  Thomas  captured  over 
fifty  guns,  large  quandties  of  stores,  and  eight  thousantl  prisoners,  including  one 
major-general,  three  brigadier-generals,  and  more  than  two  hundred  commissioned 
officers. 

The  stroke  administered  at  Nashville  so  effectually  finished  the  enemy  that 
little  remained  to  be  done  in  that  section.  The  troops  of  Thomas  participated 
in  the  closing  scenes  of  the  war,  and  from  June,  1.S65,  to  March,  1867,  he  was 
in  commantl  of  the  Department  of  the  Tennessee.  In  1S6S  he  was  placed  over 
the  I'^ourth  Military  Division,  which  included  Alaska  and  the  territory  on  the 
Pacific  slope.  He  declined  accepting  the  rank  of  lieutenant-general,  on  theground 
that  he  had  done  nothing  since  the  war  to  entide  him  to  promotion. 

General  Thomas  was  a  most  interesting  character.  lie  was  a  man  of 
method  and  regularity  in  (>verything.  He  hatcnl  to  change  his  habits  or  his  clothes, 
and  to  give  up  an  old  coat  was  a  severe  trial  to  him.  In  th(!  early  part  of  the 
war,  when  promotion  was  rapid,  he;  passed  (juickly  through  the  different  stages 
from  colonel  to  major-general  ;  and  it  is  told  of  him  that  long  after  he  became  a 
brigadier-general  h(^  was  still  wearing  his  colonel's  uniform.  He  was  made  a 
major-general  in  June,  1862,  but  he  did  not  arrive  at  the  uniform  of  his  rank 
until  January,  1863, — and  even  thcMi  the  change  was  accomplished  only  by  a 
trick  of  his  aids,  carried  out  by  the  help  of  his  body-servant. 

"Tin;v'Ri:  I'lGiirixc  wiiiioit  anv  svsit.m." 

His  aevotion  to  method  had  a  ludicrous  illustration  at  the  battle  of  Chicka- 
mauga.  The  Confcnlerate  forces  made  a  tremendous  assault  on  his  position, — 
an  assault  which  was  met  with  the  most  admiral)le  skill  and  bravery.  At  a 
critical  moment  a  messenger  arrived  with  word  that  reinforcements  were  being 
sent,  and  asking  at  what  point  they  were  most  needetl.      "  I  can't  tell,"  responded 

Tliomas, — "  I  can't  tell  ;  the  d scoundrels  are  fighting  without  any.q'.vA'w  .' " 

The  unsystematic  Confederates  were  n^pulstxl,  and  the  army  saved,  and  General 
Thomas  accepted  an  invitation  from  (ieneral  .Scribner  in  take  a  cup  of  coffee  at 
his  camp-fire.  'Thomas  sippetl  his  coffin;,  turned  the  conversation  to  indifferent 
matters,  and  appeared  entirely  unconscious  of  the  fact  that  he  had  fought  one 
of  the  most  important  battles  of  the  war,  ami  saxcil  Rosecrans's  army  from 
ruin. 

General  Thomas  was  courteous  and  dignifieil  in  manner,  and  his  heavy 
form  ard  deliberate  motitjns  went  well  with  the  caution  and  deliberation  which 
were  so  prominent  in  his  character.  His  soKlit-rs  had  tin;  greatest  confidence 
in  and  affection  for  him,  which  appeared  in  the  \arious  nicknames  which  they 
bestowed  on  him,  —  "Pap  Thomas,"  "Old  ReliabU',"  "Old  Pap  .Safety," 
"Old  SlowTrot,"  and  "Uncle  George."  He  never  joked  with  them,  however, 
21 


352 


GEORGE  H.  THOMAS. 


nor  permitied  any  familiarity,  yet  few  of  the  commanders  in  the  Union  army 
were  so  popular  with  the  men  who  served  under  them. 

"  No  man  in  the  army,"  says  Colonel  McClure,  "more  perfectly  completed 
the  circle  of  soldier  and  o^entlcman.  .  .  .  He  was  one  of  the  most  lovable 
characters  I  have  ever  known,  but  it  rcejuired  exhaustive  ingenuity  to  induce 
him  to  speak  about  any  military  movements  in  which  he  was  a  prominent  par- 
ticipant. Any  one  might  have  been  in  daily  intercourse  with  him  for  years  and 
never  learned  from  him  that  he  had  won  crreat  victories  in  the  field." 

General  Thomas  died  in  San  Francisco  on  March  28,  1870. 


/^ 


FROZEN  NIAGARA. 


>~^. 


ROBERT  E.  LEE, 


THE    GREAT    COMXI .A.>>:  I JER    OP 

A  K  MIES. 


THE    CONFEnEl<iATE; 


F  ALL  the  men  whose  character  aiid  ability  were  dev(;l- 
oped   ill   the  yreat  civil  war,  thc^re  was   perhaps  not 
one    in  either   the   Union   or  the   Confederate  army 
whose    L,''reatness    is  more    sj^enerally  acknowlecl^ed 
than  that  of  Robert  li.  Lee.      I  lis  ability  as  a  soldier 
and  his  character  as  a  man  are  alike  appreciated  ;  and 
while  it   is  natural   that  men   of  the  North   should  Ix; 
unable  to  nntlerstand   his  taking  u[)  arms  ajj^'ainst  the 
Governmt;nt,  yet  that  has  not  prevented  their  doing  full 
justice  to  his  greatness.     It  is  not  too  much  to  say  that 
General  Lee  is  recognized,  both  North  and  South,  as  one  of 
the  greatest  soldiers,  and  one  of  the  ablest  and  purest  men, 
that  America  has  i)roduce'd. 

Robert  Ldwanl  Lee  was  born  in  Westmoreland  County,  \'irginia,  January 
19,  1807.  He  was  the  son  of  the  famous  Revolutionary  general,  "  Light  Horse 
Harry  Lee."  He  was  graduated  at  West  Point  in  1S29,  and  won  high  honor 
in  the  Mexican  war.  General  Scott  attributed  the  capture  of  \'era  Cruz  to 
his  skill,  b'or  three  years  he  was  in  command  at  the  West  Point  Military 
Academy,  where  he  maile  great  improvements,  antl  tlid  much  to  raise;  its  stand- 
ing and  improve  its  efficiency.  \\'hen  John  Hrown  iiKule  his  famous  raid  at 
Harper's  P'erry,  in  1S59,  Lee  was  hastily  dispatchetl  thither  with  a  botly  of 
United  .States  troops.  When  they  arrived.  Brown  IkuI  entrenched  himself  in 
the  arsenal  (Migiiu;  house,  which  Lee  attacked,  battered  down  the  door,  captured 
the  raiders,  and  turned  them  over  to  the  civil  authoritit^s. 

At  the  breaking  out  of  the  war  Lee  was  much  in  doubt  as  to  the  right 
course.  He  disapproved  of  secession,  but  was  thoroughly  pervaded  with  the 
idea  of  loyalty  to  his  State, — an  idea  which  was  almost  universal  in  the  .South, 
but  incomprehensible  to  the  people  of  the  North.  He  had  great  difficulty  in 
arriving  at  a  decision  ;  but  when  at  last  \'irginia  adopted  an  ordinance  of  seces- 
sion, he  resigned  his  commission  in  the  United  .States  army.     Writing  to  his 

355 


35G  R(U;i:RT  I:.   Ll.Ii. 

sistc:r,  he  said.  "  I'hoiiL^h  I  rccoi^iiizc  no  iicct'ssity  for  this  state  of  things,  and 
would  hav(;  lorlxtrnc  and  pli'adi'd  to  the  < ml  for  redress  of  u;'rievances,  yet  in 
my  own  pci^son  1  had  to  im-ei  the  (luestion  uhetlu'r  1  sl.'ould  take  part  against 
my  natixf  State.  With  all  my  iliAotion  to  the  I'nion,  and  the  feidiiiL;  of  loyalty 
ant!  duty  as  an  American  citizeMi,  1  lunc  i^.ot  l)c:en  able  to  make  u|)  my  mind  to 
raise'  my  hand  against  my  relati\(;s,  my  chihlren,  my  home.  I  ha\'e  therefore 
resigned  m\-  commission  in  the  army,  and,  saxc  in  defense  of  my  native  State, 
...  1  hope  1  ma}'  ne\er  be  calk:d  upon  to  tlraw  my  sword." 

1.1  t:'s  (  i.i'Ak   ii  iKisii.irr. 

\\v  was  (juickly  calleil  upon  to  'defend  his  nativt.'  .State."  None  real- 
ized l)etter  than  he  that  a  long-  and  bloody  war  was  coming;,  and  that  \'irj;inia 
would  be  the  chi(;f  battle-ground.  ( )e.ieral  Iniboden  has  gi\en  an  interesting 
account  of  an  iiiterxiew  with  Lee  in  May,  iSoi,  just  after  lu:  was  put  in  com- 
mand of  the  armies  of  \  irgiiiia.  ( leneral  Imboden  had  gone  to  Richmond  to 
iirg('  the  sending  of  troops  to  1  larper's  l''err\'.  "  It  was  .Sunda\',"  he  writes, 
"and  I  found  the  (leiieral  entirely  al(>iu',  in  a  small  room  on  liank  street,  near 
the  Capitol.  It  was  the  first  tim<'  1  had  met  him,  and  1  am  sure  he  was  the 
handsomc;st  man  I  IkuI  e\'er  seen.  1  lis  hair  ami  moustache — he  wore  no  beard 
— were  onlv  sligluK'  siK'cred  with  ''ra\',  just  enough  to  harmoiii/e  treel\'  witli 
his  rich,  ruddy  compk^xion,  a  little  br(uized,  and  to  gi\e  perfect  dignity  to  the 
<;\pression  of  his  grand  and  massi\c  feature's,  Ills  manner  was  grave,  but 
frank  and  cordial,  I  b,'  wore  a  simple  undr(;ss  military  suit,  without  badge  or 
ornament  of  any  kind,  and  then;  was  nothing  in  his  surroundings  to  indicate 
high  military  rank.   .   ,   . 

"I  rose  to  take  niy  leave:,  when  he  asked  me  to  resume  my  seat,  reniarking 
that  he  wished  to  talk  with  me  about  the  condition  of  the  couritry,  and  the  ter- 
rible storm  which  was  so  soon  to  burst  upon  it  in  all  its  fury.  .  ,  .  lie  .said  he 
desireel  to  impress  nii.'  .  .  .  with  the  gra\it\'  and  tianger  ot  our  situation,  and 
the;  imperative  necessity  for  imiiK-diate  antl  thorough  preparation  tor  ck^lense. 
Growing  warm  ami  earnc:st,  he  said,  '  1  fc;ar  our  pt'ople  do  not  )'et  realize 
the  magnitude  of  the  struggU;  they  ha\e  entered  upon,  nor  its  prol)al)le  dura- 
tion, and  the  sacrifices  it  will  impose  upon  them.  The  Inited  .States  (Govern- 
ment,' he  s.iid,  '  is  one  of  the  most  [)owerful  upon  earth.  I  know  the;  peojjle 
and  the  goxcrmneiit  we  hasc  to  contend  with.  In  a  little  while  they  will  be  even 
more  united  than  we  are.  'Iheir  resources  are  .dmost  withemt  limit.  'I  hey 
have  ;i  thoroughly  organized  government,  commanding  the  respect,  and,  to  some 
extent,  the  fears  of  the  world.  iheir  ann\'  is  complete  in  all  its  cU^tails  and 
appointments,  and  it  will  be  commanded  b\'  the  foremost  soldier  of  the  country, 
(iencM'al  .Scott,  whose  de'\-otion  to  the  I'nion  cause  is  attested  by  his  drawing 
his  sword  against  his  native  .State.     They  have  also  a  navy  that  in  a  little  while 


358 


ROBERT  E.  LEE. 


will  blockade  our  ports  and  cut  us  off  from  all  the  world.  They  have  nearly  all 
the  workshops  and  skilled  artisans  of  the  country,  and  will  draw  upon  the 
resources  of  other  nations  to  supply  any  deficiency  they  may  feci.  And  above 
all,  we  shall  have  to  fight  the  prejudices  of  the  workl,  because  of  the  existence 
of  slavery  in  our  country.  Our  enemies  will  have  the  ear  of  other  powers, 
while  we  cannot  be  heard,  and  they  will  be  shrewd  enough  to  make  the  war 
appear  to  be  merely  a  struggle  on  our  part  for  the  maintenance  of  slavery  ;  and 
we  shall  thus  be  without  sympathy,  and  most  certainly  without  material  aid  from 


Till'.   JAMKS    RIVI.R    AND    CHLNIkY    NKAK    RICHMOND. 


other  powers.  To  meet  all  this  we  have  a  government  to  form,  an  army  to 
raise,  organize,  and  equip,  as  best  we  may.  We  are  without  a  treasury,  and 
without  credit.  We  have  no  ships,  few  arms,  and  few  manufacturers.  Our 
people  are  brave  and  enthusiastic,  and  will  be  united  in  defense  of  a  just  cause. 
I  believe  we  can  succeed  in  establishing  our  independence,  if  the  people  can  be 
made  to  comprehend  at  the  outset  that  to  do  so  they  must  endure  a  longer  war 
and  far  greater  privations  than  our  fathers  did  in  the  Revolution  of  1776.  We 
will  not  succeed  until  the  financial  power  of  the  North  is  completely  broken, 


mS  CLEAR  FORES  IG I  FT.  359 

and  this  can  occur  only  at  the  cud  of  a  long  and  bloody  war.  Many  of  our 
people  think  it  will  soon  be  over,  that  perhaps  a  single  campaign  and  one  great 
battle  will  end  it.  This  is  a  fatal  error,  and  must  be  corrected,  or  we  are 
doomed.  Above  all,  Virginians  must  prepare  for  the  worst.  Our  country  is  of 
wide  extent  and  great  natural  resources,  but  the  conflict  will  be  mainly  in  Vir- 
ginia. She  will  become  the  Flanders  of  America  before  this  war  is  over,  and 
her  people  must  be  prepared  for  this.  If  they  resolve  at  once  to  dedicate  their 
lives  and  all  they  possess  to  the  cause  of  constitutional  government  and  Soutli- 
ern  independence,  and  to  suffer  without  yielding  as  no  other  people  have  been 
called  upon  to  suffer  in  modern  times,  we  shall,  with  the  blessing  of  God,  suc- 
ceed in  the  end  ;  but  when  it  will  all  end  no  man  can  foretell.  I  wish  I  could 
talk  to  every  man,  woman,  and  child  in  the  State  now,  and  impress  them  with 
these  views.' 

"The  prophetic  forecast  of  General  Lee  became  widely  known,  and  as  sub- 
sequent events  verified  his  judgment,  it  aided  materially  in  giving  him  that  con- 
trol over  the  public  mind  of  the  South  that  enabled  him  often  by  a  simple 
expression  of  his  wishes  to  procure  larger  supplies  and  aid  for  his  army  than  the 
most  stringent  acts  of  Congress  and  merciless  impressment  orders  could  obtain. 
The  people  came  to  regard  him  as  the  only  man  who  could  possibly  carry  us 
through  the  struggle  successfully.  The  love  of  his  troops  for  him  knew  no 
bounds,  because  they  had  implicit  faith  in  his  ability,  and  knew  he  was  a  sym- 
pathizing friend  in  all  their  trials.  .  .  . 

THE   CONFEDERATE   COMMANDER's   DINNER. 

"  The  great  simplicity  of  his  habits  was  another  ground  of  popularity.  He 
fared  no  better  than  his  troops.  Their  rough,  scant  rations  were  his  as  well. 
There  were  times  when  for  weeks  our  army  had  nothing  but  bread  and  meat  to 
live  on,  and  not  enough  of  that.  W' hen  the  two  armies  were  on  the  opposite 
banks  of  the  Rappahannock,  in  the  winter  of  1863-64,  meat  was  sometimes  very 
scarce  in  ours.  Even  the  usual  half-pound  per  diem  ration  could  not  always  be 
issued.  During  one  of  these  periods  of  scarcity,  on  a  very  stormy  day,  several 
corps  and  division  generals  were  at  headquarters,  and  were  waiting  for  the  rain 
to  abate  before  riding  t6  their  camps,  when  General  Lee's  negro  cook  annoi?"".ed 
dinner.  The  General  invited  his  visitors  to  dine  with  him.  On  repairing  to  the 
table  a  tray  of  hot  corn-bread,  a  boiled  head  of  cabbage  seasoned  with  a  very 
small  piece  of  bacon,  and  a  bucket  of  water  constituted  the  repast.  The  piece  of 
meat  was  so  small  that  all  politely  declined  taking  any,  expressing  themselves  as 
'  very  fond  of  boiled  cabbage  and  corn-bread,'  on  which  they  dined.  Of  course, 
the  General  was  too  polite  to  eat  meat  in  the  presence  of  guests  who  had  de- 
clined it.  But  later  in  the  afternoon,  when  they  had  all  gone,  feeling  very 
hungry,  he  called  his  servant  and  asked  him  to  bring  him  a  piece  of  bread  and 


36o 


ROn/iRT  /■:.  LIUi. 


meat.  The  darkey  looked  perplexed  and  embarrassed,  and  after  scratch! iii^  his 
head  some  time  said  in  a  deprecatintj  tone,  '  Lord,  Mas'  Robert,  dat  nuat  what 
I  sot  before  you  at  dinner  warn't  ours.  1  had  jest  borrowed  dat  piece  of  mid- 
dlin'  from  one  of  ile  couriers  to  season  de  cabbai,fe  in  de  pot.  and  seein'  as  you 
was  gwine  to  have  company  at  dinner,  1  put  on  (U;  dish  wid  dc  cabbat^e  for 
looks,  iiut  when  I  seed  you  an'  none  of  ile  s^eneimen  tochc;  it  I  'eluded  you  all 
knowed  it  was  borrowed,  and  so  aft(M-  dinner  I  sont  it  back  to  d(,'  boy  what  it 
belong''  to.  I's  mit^hty  sorry,  Mas'  Robert,  I  didn't  know  you  wanted  some,  for 
den  I  would  'a'  tuck  a  piece  off'n  it  anyhow  'fore  I  sont  it  honK.'.'  " 

In   the   latter  part  of   iS6i,  General  Lee  was  sent  to  the  coast  of  .South 


LlHllV    I'KlMiN     IN     l8t>4',    m:lLiKF.    ITS    RKMOVAI,   TO    LIIICACO. 


Carolina,  where  he  planned  the  defenses  which  so  lontj  proved  imprerrnable  to 
all  attacks  of  the  Union  forces,  and  which  were  held  until  the  northward  march 
of  Sherman's  army  in  1S65  compelled  the  evacuation  of  Charleston.  Lee  then 
returned  to  X'irLi^inia,  and  in  June,  itS62,  he  took  command  of  the  Confederate 
forces  defending'  Richmond.  On  June  26th.  he  met  McClellan  at  Mechanicsville 
and  Gaines's  Mill  ;  and  thmi  be^^an  that  lontj;'  and  terrible  series  of  battles 
between  his  forces  and  the  Army  of  th<;  Potomac,  which  so  splendidly  displayed 
his  maqriiticent  abilities  as  a  commander.  In  defensive  warfare  he  was  almost 
invincible.  I  le  dehatetl  McCh^llan  on  the  Peninsula,  Hurnside  at  PVedericks- 
bur<r.  and  Hook(;r  at  Chancellorsville.  Not  until  Cirant  took  command  in  1864 
had  a  general   been   found  who  could   successfully  cope  with  Lee  ;   and  even 


GETTYSBIRG  AXD  AFIER.  361 

Grant  accomplished  Lcc's  final  deroat  not  so  much  by  superior  generalship  as 
by  steadily  taking-  advantai^'e  of  his  own  superior  resources. 

After  the  threat  conllict  at  (iettysburn'.  in  July,  1SO3,  the  j^^reat  resources  of 
the  North,  so  far  su[)erior  to  those  of  the  South,  bt^jijan  to  tell  ajj^ainst  the 
Confederacy.  It  hecaint?  almost  impossible  to  recruit  the  Southern  armies,  or 
to  properly  supi^ly  the  men  wiio  were  already  in  the  tield.  ll(Miceforth  Lee's 
operations  were  confineil  to  the  d(;f(;nse  of  X'iryiiiia  ;  and  it  is  hard  to  overrate 
the  masterly  ability  with  which  this  was  done,  under  almost  insuperal)le  iliffi- 
culties  and  tliscourai^ements.  It  was  lo\e  anil  devotion  to  their  commander 
which  heltl  to<,'^ether  the  armi(;s  of  the  Confederacy;  and  this,  coupleil  with  their 
confidence  in  his  skill,  lont;-  mach;  his  rai^jji^tl  and  half-starved  sokliers  more 
than  a  match  for  the  superior  armies  of  McClellan  and  (irant.  Cieneral  Cirant 
perceived  this,  and  saw  that  it  was  rt-ally  a  (piestion  of  endurance, — that  the 
Confetleracy  could  be  overcome  only  when  the  rt^sources  of  tlu;  South  were  so 
far  exhausted  that  the  war  could  no  lon^rer  be  carrieil  on  ;  antl  it  was  with  this 
idea  in  his  mind  that  he  t(jok  command  of  the  Union  armies  in  1S64. 

The  battle  of  the  Wilderness,  on  May  5th.  was  the  bt-'s^innint.,^  of  the  end. 
Spottsylvania  followed,  and  then  Cold  Harbor,  where  the  frijjjhtful  losses  of  the 
Union  armies  L,'^ave  terrible  [jroof  of  Lee's  ability  to  take  swift  advantage  of  the 
least  mistake  of  his  antagonist.  Then  came  the  siege  of  Petersburg,  and  after 
a  spring  and  summer  of  persistent  fighting,  Lee  seemed  as  able  as  ever  to  keep 
the  Union  armies  at  bay.  But,  as  Grant  hatl  foreseen,  the;  struggle  had  told 
heavily  upon  his  resources;  and  \\\\v.\\  the  triumphant  march  of  .Sherman  through 
Georgia  had  exposed  the  hopelessly  exhausted  condition  of  the  South,  the  end 
of  the  struggle  was  seen  to  be  approaching. 

The  deprivation  and  poverty  in  Virginia  in  the  last  year  of  the  war  were 
extreme.  The  railroad  communications  of  Richmond  being  often  destroyed  by 
the  Union  cavalry,  it  was  impossible  to  keep  the  city  supplied,  and  many  of  th(; 
people  were  on  the  verge  of  starvation.  I'ea  soup  and  bread  were  the  food  of 
large  numbers.  Confederate  money  had  so  depreciated  that  it  was  often  said 
that  it  took  a  basketful  to  go  to  market.  .\  barrel  of  Hour  cost  several  hundred 
dollars.     Boots  were  four  and  five  hundred  dollars  a  pair. 

Still  Lee  held  out,  and  in  the  spring  of  1.S65  maintained  with  persistent 
skill  and  courage  the  hopeless  defense  of  Richmond  ;  but  his  army  was  melting 
away  ;  it  was  impossible  to  supply  them  even  with  food  ;  the  men  themselves 
saw  that  further  conllict  was  a  useless  sacrifice,  and  were  ready  to  accept  the 
result  which  came  at  Appomattox  Court  House  on  April  o,  1S65. 

The  universal  affection  and  nispect  which  the  people  of  the  South  felt  for 
General  Lee  was,  if  possible,  increased  after  the  close  of  the-  war.  The  confis- 
cation of  his  property  had  rendered  him  hom«;less.  The  people  of  Virginia 
offered  him  homes  almost  without  number,  and  relatives  als(j  who  lived  in  Ln<r- 


362 


ROlUiRT  E.  I.RE. 


"-     N 


\ 


\    t~ 


:~\ 


\-'  :'ii--'  ^z^r'y  ^..  A^  vt^_ 


"N  -   ^  ».   /' 


^..    -rr  .    , 


land  were  desirous  that  he  should  take  up  his  abode  there  ;  but  General  Lee 
would  not  consent  to  be  separated  from  tin;  country  he  lovt'd.  He  was  deeply 
attached  to  the  peoph;  of  the  South,  as  they  to   him  ;  and  of  the  many  homes 

ottered  him,  he  chos*: 
one  in  Powhatan 
County,  a  small  and 
simple  country  place, 
where  he  j^athered 
his  wife  and  children 
around  him,  expect- 
iiiL;-  to  lead  a  retired 
and  (juiet  lite.  I  le 
w  as  also  offered 
many  positions,  in 
which  he  would  re- 
ceive a  liberal  salary 
for  little  or  no  labor ; 
but  these  his  pride 
would  not  permit 
him  to  accept.  I'inal- 
ly  a  proposition  was 
made  by  the  trustees 
of  Washington  Col- 
lege that  he  should 
become  president  of 
that  institution.  This 
offer,  much  to  the 
gratification  of  his 
friends,  he  ci  )ncluded 
to  accept,  believing, 
as  he  said,  that  he 
could  be  of  influence 
and  use  in  that  posi 
lion.  This  expecta- 
tion was  not  disap- 
pointed. The  Univer- 
sity quickly  became 
one  of  the  most  popular  educational  institutions  of  the  South,  which  was  no 
doubt  largely  in  consequence  of  the  fact  that  he  was  at  the  head  of  it.  The 
number  of  students  increased  ten-fold  within  a  comparatively  short  time  after 
General  Lee  became  its   president.     His  wisdom  and   skill  in   managing  the 


*MiKM.KAL    U:K   to    THE    RLAK  1 


Al'l-ECriON  OF  THE  PEOPLE. 


3^^3 


Rtiulcnts  of  tli(*  University  was  remarkable;.  1  lis  appeal  to  the  liii^jier  sentiments 
of  the  younj;'  men  seem(;cl  ni:ver  to  fail  of  a  response.  They  were  ashamed  to 
do  anything-  it;ss  than  their  best  when  feeling;  that  ( leneral  Lee's  eye  was  upon 
tlu;m.  lie  was  ac- 
customed to  r(Mnin(I 
them  0,1  entering;  the 
collej^a:  of  the  lovini;' 
solicitude  with  which 
their  course  would 
be  watched  by  their 
mothers ;  ami  this 
api)eal  to  their  his^h- 
ost  feelings  seldom 
failed  to  have  great 
effect  upon  their  con- 
duct and  character. 

One  c  o  n  s  e - 
qnence  of  the  filial 
feelinir  which  the 
people  of  the  South 
entertained  for  (len- 
eral Lee  was  that  he 
was  flooded  with  let- 
ters upon  every  con- 
ceivable subject,  from 
all  parts  of  the  coun- 
try. At  a  time  when 
he  hatl  in  charge  five 
hundred  young  men, 
with  a  corps  of 
twenty  five  instruct- 
ors under  him,  he 
was  receiving  daily 
almost  innumerable 
letters  from  old  sol- 
diers, their  widows 
or  children,  anil  from 

those  who  had  not  even  this  claim  upon  him  ;  many  asking  for  money,  and 
nearly  all  appealing  for  advice  or  assistance  in  some  form.  A  friend  once  said 
to  him,  "You  surely  do  not  feel  obliged  to  answer  all  of  these  letters?" 
"Indeed  I  do,"  he  replied.     "Think   of  the  trouble  that  many  of  these  poor 


Li;i     AM)    TIIK    riKkV.MAN. 


3^4 


ROBERT  E.  LEE. 


^^mf^mmmp^^ 


people  have  taken   to  write  me.      Why  should   I   not  be   willin^r   to   take   the 
trouble  to  reply?     That  is  all  I  can  give,  and  that  I  give  ungrudgingly." 

In  1867,  in  company  with  his  daughter  MiUlrcd,  he  rode  on  horseback  to 

the  Peaks  of  Otter, 
fifty  miles  from  Lex 
ington.  At  a  ferry 
on  the;  route  the 
boatman  chanced  to 
be  an  old  soldier. 
When  the  usual 
charge  was  ten- 
dered, the  rough 
mountaineer's  eyes 
filled  with  tears,  and 
he  shook  his  head, 
saying,  "  I  could  n<pt 
take  pay  from  yoi.. 
Master  Robert :  1 
have  follouxnl  yoa 
in  many  a  bat  lie.  ' 

r>itterness  or  re 
sentment  seemed  to 
have  no  place  in 
General  Lee's  na- 
ture. When  the  fate 
of  war  went  against 
him,  he  accepted  its 
result  in  good  faith, 
and  thenceforward 
did  his  best  to  re- 
store good  feeling 
between  the  North 
and  the  South.  Hvei\ 
toward  men  who  ex 
hibited  the  most  in- 
tense        bitterness 


^'^^• 


i%'- 


j^' 


hKt    A.NU    1111.    l.M'iS    Scil.lJll  K. 


against  him  hr 
seemed  to  have  no  other  feeling  than  kindness  and  good-will.  This  was 
the  case  even  with  those  who  sought  to  have  him  tried  and  punishtxl  for 
treason.  During  the  w.ir  it  was  noticeable  that  he  never  spoke  of  tln^  Union 
soldiers  as  "  Yankees,"  the  common  expression   in   the  Southern  army.     Thty 


SCEXE  AFTER  GETIVSHCRG.  365 

were  always  mentioned  as  "  I'eeU.'rals,"  or  "  the  enemy."  He  regretted  and 
condemnetl  the  harsh  and  bitter  lan^'ua^e  which  cliaracterized  the  Southern 
newspapers.  "  Is  it  any  wonder,"  he  said,  "  that  Northern  journals  should  retort 
as  they  do,  \\\\va\  those  in  the  South  employ  such  language  against  them?  " 

I.F.I';    A.M)    TlIK    LM()\    S(i1.|)11:K. 

A  touching  story,  illustrating  this  noble  trait  of  General  I.ee's  character, 
was  told  years  after  the  war  by  a  Union  veteran  who  was  viewing  the  great 
panorama,  "The  Battle  ol  (Gettysburg."  lie  said,  "1  was  at  tlu;  battle  of 
Gettysburg  myself.  I  hatl  hv.vn  a  most  l)itter  ;;nti-.S()uth  man,  and  fought  antl 
cursed  the  Confederates  desperately.  1  could  see  nothing  gootl  in  any  of  them. 
The  last  day  of  i\\v.  fight  I  was  badly  wounded.  .\  ball  shattered  my  left  leg. 
I  lay  on  the  ground  not  far  from  Cemetery  Ridge,  and  as  (General  Lee  ordered 
his  retreat,  he  and  his  officers  rod<!  near  uk;.  As  they  came  along  I  recognized 
him,  ami,  though  faint  from  exposure  and  loss  of  blood,  1  raist-d  up  my  hands, 
looked  Lee  in  the  face,  and  shouted  as  loud  as  1  could,  '  llurrah  for  the 
Union!'  The  general  heard  me,  looked,  stopped  his  horse-,  dismounted,  and 
came  toward  me.  I  confess  that  I  at  first  thought  he  meant  to  kill  me.  Dut  as 
he  came  up  he  looked  down  at  me  with  such  a  sad  e.\[)ression  upon  his  face 
that  all  fear  left  me,  and  1  wond(;red  what  he  was  about.  Me  e.xtended  his 
hand  to  me,  and  grasping  mine;  firmlv  and  looking  rioht  into  my  eves,  said, 
'  My  son,  I  hope  you  will  soon  Ije  well.' 

"  If  I  live  a  thousand  y(;ars  I  shall  never  forget  the  e.xpression  on  General 
Lee's  face.  Th(;re  he  was,  defeated,  retiring  from  a  field  that  had  cost  him  and 
his  cause  almost  their  last  hope,  and  yet  he  stopped  to  say  words  like  those  to 
a  wounded  soldier  of  the  op|>osition  who  had  tauntt',d  him  as  he  passed  by  ! 
As  soon  as  the  general  had  left  me  I  cried  myself  to  slee[)  there  upon  the 
Idoody  ground." 

The  vahiv.  of  General  Lee's  e.  mple  in  r  'storing  good  feeling  between  the 
North  and  .South  can  hardly  be  overestimated.  1  le  was  so  universally  looked 
up  to  by  tlu;  .Southern  peo|)le  that  his  opinions  and  example  could  not  fail  to 
\\i\v  the  greatest  effect.  It  is  no  small  part  of  his  title  to  fame  that  his  great 
inllu(.Mice  should  have  been  us(h1  as  it  was  toward  rcnmiting  the  country  after 
the  war,  rather  than  in  perpetuating  strife  and  hatred. 

General  Lee's  domestic  life  was  an  almost  ideal  one.  During  his  last  yeai"'-, 
his  wife  was  an  invalid,  suffering  from  rheumatic  gout,  and  his  devotion  to  her 
was  unfailing,  ller  health  rendered  it  n(;cessary  for  her  to  travel  to  tin;  medi- 
cinal springs  in  different  ])arts  of  \'irginia,  and  he  used  oftiMi  to  precede  her  oil 
the  journey,  in  ordi;r  to  have  everything  in  readiness  on  her  arrival.  I  \c  con- 
trived an  apparatus  whereby  she  could  be  lowered  into  the  baths  in  her  chair. 
in  order  to  avoid  ascending  and  descending  the  steps.      His  love  for  his  children 


366 


ROBERT  E.  LEE. 


manifcstcHl  itself  in  a  tender  and  delicate  courtesy  which  was  beautiful  to  see, 
and  which  was  repaid  on  their  i)art  l)y  the  stroni^est  attachment. 

(General  Lee  di('d  at  Lexiiinton,  \'ir<j^inia,  Octolx.'r  12,  1S70.  After  his 
death  the  name  of  the  college  ov(;r  which  he  had  presidcxl  was  chant^ed,  in  his 
honor,  to  "Washington  and  Lee  University,"  and  stands  a  worthy  monument 
of  the  great  soldier,  whose  noble  qualities  were  shown  as  conspicuously  in  peace 
as  in  war.  The  issues  which  divided  our  country  into  hostile  sections  have 
happily  passed  away  ;  and  North  and  South  can  join  in  cherishing  his  memory 
and  doing  honor  to  his  spotless  fame. 


MOMMKNI-   TO   CKNKRAL    MilC,    AT   RlCirMOM),  VIRCINIA. 


3('S 


THOMAS   JONATHAN    JACKSON, 

THE    QREA^T    CON  KKUEK.VTb;    (JiiXEKAL,. 


J!  .'i  ANY  remarkable  characters  were  (l(,'veloped  on  both 
sides  in  the  great  civil  war  of  1861.  The  war 
broui,rht  out  in  men  qualities  and  powers  which  had 
never  betore  been  known  or  suspected.  ( )ne  of  the 
most  striking  of  such  characters  was  the  brave  and 
able  but  ecc(;ntric  man  known  as  Stonewall  Jackson, 
who  fell  in  tlu;  battle  of  Chancellors\ille,  in  May, 
\863. 

Thomas  Jonathan  Jackson  was  born  in  Clarks- 
burg, \'irginia,  January  Ji,  1S24.  At  the  age  of 
eighteen  he  was  appcjintetl  to  the  West  Point  Mili- 
tary Academy.  Owing  to  the  fact  that  he  was  poorly 
prepared  to  enter  that  institution,  ht;  never  took  a 
high  standing  in  his  classes,  lie  was  graduated  in 
1847  and  orderetl  to  Mexico.  Me  took  part  in  Scott's  cam])aign  from  \'t;ra 
Cruz  to  the  city  of  Mexico,  and  was  twice  bre\etted  for  gallant  conduct,  at 
Churubusco  and  Chapultepec,  finally  attaining  the  rank  of  lirst  lieutenant  of 
artillery.  After  the  Mexican  war  he  was  on  duty  at  l'V)rt  1  lamilton.  New  \'ork 
harbor,  and  subsecjuently  at  I'ort  Meade,  Ida.,  but  in  1S51  ill  health  caust;d  him 
to  resign  his  commission  in  the  army  antl  return  to  his  native  State,  where  he 
was  elected  professor  of  natural  sciences  and  artillery  tactics  in  the  X'irginia 
Military  Institute. 

Of  Jackson's  life  at  the  Institute  many  stories  are  told,  illustrating  the  pecu- 
liarities of  his  character.  He  was  commonly  called  "  ( )ld  Jack,"  and  sometimes 
"  Fool  Tom  Jackson,"  by  the  students,  who  wm'e  better  able;  to  perceive;  his 
eccentricities  than  his  merits.  His  (extreme  conscientiousnt'ss  is  illustrated  by 
his  walking  a  long  distance  through  snow  ami  sleet  one  winter  night  to 
apologize  to  a  cadet  whom  he  had  sent  to  his  seat  in  class  for  a  mistake  in  reci- 
tation. It  proved  that  there  was  an  terror  in  the  text-book,  and  that  the  student 
was  correct.  Most  men  would  ha\  (;  thought  it  sufficient  to  rectify  the  error  on 
the  following  day.  Xot  so  Jackson.  As  soon  as  lie  discovered  that  he  was 
2^  369 


370  THOMAS  JON  A  THAN  J  A  CKSON. 

wronji^,  his  conscience  woultl  not  jK;rni:thiin  to  rest  a  moment  until  he  had  sought 
the  student's  room  and  set  iiimself  right. 

Jackson  was  above  all  things  a  religious  man.  At  all  times  and  places,  in 
every  act  (jI  his  lite,  religion  was  his  lirst  thought.  A  friend  was  once  conveni- 
ing  with  him  about  the  ditticulty  of  the  Scriptur-j  injunction,  "  Pray  without 
ceasing,"  and  Jackson  insisted  that  we  could  s(j  accustom  ourselves  to  it  that  it 
could  be  easily  obeyed.  "  When  we  take  our  meals,  there  is  grace.  W'lien  I 
take  a  drink  of  water  1  always  pause,  as  my  palate  receives  the  refreshment,  to 
lift  up  my  heart  in  thanks  to  (jod  for  the  water  of  life.  Whenever  I  drop  a 
letter  in  the  box  at  the  post-office,  I  send  a  petition  along  with  it  for  God's 
blessing  upon  its  mission  and  u])on  the  person  to  whom  it  is  sent.  When  I 
break  the  seal  of  a  letter  just  received,  1  stop  to  pray  to  Gotl  that  he  may  pre- 
pare me  for  its  contents  and  make  it  a  messenger  of  good.  When  I  go  to  my 
class-room  and  await  the  arrangement  of  the  cadets  in  their  places,  that  is  my 
time  to  intercede  with  God  for  them.  And  so  with  every  other  familiar  act  of 
the  day." 

"  But,"  said  his  friend,  "do  you  not  often  forget  these  seasons,  coming  so 
fretjuently  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  he ;  "  I  have  made  the  practice  habitual,  and  I  can  no  more  for- 
get it  than  forget  to  drink  when  I  am  thirsty." 

Upon  the  secession  of  Virginia  Jackson  was  among  the  first  to  answer  the 
call  to  arms,  and  wrote  to  Governor  Letcher,  offering  to  serve  in  any  position  to 
which  he  might  be  assigned.  The  Governor  immediately  commissioned  him  a 
colonel  of  \'irginia  volunteers.  He  was  placed  in  command  of  the  troops  at 
Harper's  P'erry,  and  upon  the  formation  of  the  Army  of  the  Shenandoah  he  was 
placed  in  charge  of  the  famous  ".Stonewall  Brigade,"  with  which  his  name  was 
thenceforth  identified.  That  singular  appellation  of  a  body  of  troops  origin- 
ated in  this  wise  :  — 

In  the  early  part  of  the  battle  of  Lull  Run  the  Confed(?rates  had  decid(,'dly 
the  worst  of  it.  Bartow's  and  Bee's  brigades  were  terribly  cut  up  and  driven 
from  the  field  for  a  time,  and  all  siM'med  lost,  when  Jackson  suddenly  appeared 
upon  the  scene  widi  his  splendid  brigade.  With  magical  rapidity  he  took  In  the 
situation,  and  formed  his  lines  to  resist  the  advance  of  the  enemy.  Bee  and 
Bartow  had  succeed('d  in  rallying  fragments  of  their  brigades.  To  re-assure  his 
soldiers,  P)ee  addressed  them  brielly,  and,  pointing  to  Jackson's  men  as  a  worthy 
example  of  courage  and  coolness,  he  exclaimed,  "  Look  at  those  Virginians  ! 
They  stantl  like  a  stone  wall."  The  next  day  l)e(;'s  compliment  was  repeated 
all  over  the  camp,  and  the  name  stuck  to  tin;  brigade  and  its  commander  ever 
after. 

One  of  Jackson's  peculiarities  was  a  passion  for  exact  justice.  Lie  would 
not  permit  his  rank  to  give  him  the  smallest  advantage  over  the  common  sol- 


WA/'JIXG  I-OR  '-JUS  TCKX." 


3/"' 


diers  of  his  command.  When  at  Hull  Run  he  made  the  c(dcl)rat(Hl  chars^a:'  which 
turned  the  fortunes  of  the;  day,  he  raised  his  left  hand  above  his  heatl  to  encour- 
a.i^re  the  troops,  and  while  in  this  position  a  ball  struck  a  hn^er,  broke  it, 
and  carried  off  a  |)iece  of  the  bone.  He  remained  ui>on  the  fu-ld,  wouiuled  as 
he  was,  till  the;  fight  was  over,  antl  then  wantctl  to  take  |)art  \n  the  pursuit,  but 
was  peremptorily  ordered  back  t(j  th(;  hospital  by  the  ^cMieral  commandint:^. 
The  chief  surgeon  was  busily  engaged  with  the  woiuuletl,  but  left  them  and 
asked  Jackson  if  he  was  seriousl)-  hurt.      "  No,"  he  answered,  "  not  half  as  badly 


UAKll.K  .1    I  l.KKV. 


as  many  here,  and  I  will  wait."  And  he  forthwith  sat  down  on  the  bank  of  a 
little  stream  nc^ar  by,  ami  [)ositivt'ly  tleclined  any  assistance  until  "his  turn 
came." 

In  October,  iS6i,  lackson  was  commissioned  a  major-gcmeral,  and  s(;nt  to 
take  command  in  the  Shenandcah  X'alley.  In  the  course  of  the;  winter  hi;  drove 
the  Federal  troops  from  the  district,  and  early  in  the  following  March  was  there 
when  ])anks  was  sent  against  him.  !  \v.  fell  back  bi;fore  Ikmks  some  iorty  miles, 
then  suddenly  turned,  and  with  only  thirty  livi;  huntlred  men  attacked  him  so 
fiercely  that  lie  retreated   with  all  his    troops.     His  cam[)aign  in   April,  1S62, 


I'AllLK    OK    CIIANeLl-!.i)K:i\  ILI.l;.      JAcK.-^ON  .i    AllACIv   ON   TUK   Kl'.UT    WlMl 


Jf/S  n/-A  I'll  A  T  C/l.  IXt/ifJA  Vv'.V /  V/. /./;".  iji 

when  he  whipped  Mih-oy,  Hanks,  Shields,  and  I'rtinont.  one  after  another,  aiul 
then  suddenly  descemletl  ui)on  McClellan  at  (iaines's  Mill,  when  the  I'nion 
(Tcnerals  lluju^ht  he  was  still  in  the  X'allry,  constitiitfs  one  ot  tln'  nio^t  brilliaiit 
cha[)ters  in  modern  warfare,',  lie  look  part  in  the  operations  against  MiLlcllan, 
and  in  July  he  was  a^^ain  detaclK;d  and  sent  to  ( iordon^\  ille  to  look  after  his  old 
.1  iieniies  in  the  Valley,  who  were;  ^atheriuL;  under  I'ope.  <  'n  AuL^ust  (^h  he 
crossed  the  Rapidan  and  struck  Uanks  another  crushiuL;-  blow  at  L'edar  Run.  (  )n 
August  25th  he  passetl  around  I\)])e's  rii^ht  llank  and  forceil  him  to  let  i4<>  his 
hoUl  upon  the  l\a|)pahannock.  Hy  stuhliorn  ti^htim^- he  ke])t  him  on  the  unround 
until  Lonij^street  could  L;<:t  u|»,  and  routetl  Pope  at  the  secontl  battle  of  Hull  Run, 
in  Aujj^ust,  1S62, 

Two  weeks  later,  in  the  b(;<;innint^  of  the  Maryland  cain[)ai^ii,  Jackson  in- 
vested antl  captured  1  larper's  I'"erry  with  eleven  thousand  prisoners,  many 
stands  of  arms,  and  seventy-two  L,'uns,  and  by  a  terrible  nii^ht  march,  reached 
Sharpsburi^  on  September  16th.  The  n(^\t  morninsj^  he  commanded  the  left 
wincj  of  the  Confederate  army,  repulsing'  with  his  thin  line  the  corps  of  I  looker, 
Mansfield,  and  Sumner,  which  were  in  succession  hurled  atjj'ainst  him.  At  I'Ved- 
ericksburic,  December  13,  1S62,  Jackson  coinmanded  tlie  Confetlerate  rij^dit  winij-, 
and  in  May,  1863,  made  his  Chancellorsville  movtMiient,  which  resulted  in  his 
death.  On  May  },([  he  received  a  severe  wound  in  the  arm,  which  rendered  am- 
putation necessary.      Pneumonia  supervened,  and  he  dit'd  on  th('  loth  of  May. 

In  person  Jackson  is  described  by  an  intimate  friend  as  "a  tall  man,  six 
feet  hi^-h,  anf^ailar,  strontj;',  with  rather  larqe  {vx-X  and  hands."  I  le  rather  strode 
alone  than  walked.  There  was  somethin<''  hrm  and  decided  even  in  his  ijait. 
His  eyes  were  dark  blue,  larL^e,  and  piercinq'.  He  looked  straight  at  you,  and 
i/iro!i,;/i  you  almost,  as  he  talki'd.  He  spoke  in  t(;rsi',  short  si-ntences,  always 
to  the  point.  There  was  never  any  circumlocution  about  what  he  luul  to  say. 
His  hair  was  inclined  to  aubiu'n.  1  lis  beard  was  brown.  He  was  as  gentle  and 
kind  as  a  woman  to  those  he  loved.  There  was  sometimes  a  softness  and  ten- 
derness about  him  that  was  very  striking. 

[ackson  was  exceedingly  fond  of  children,  and  seldom  failed  to  win  thtnr 
love  in  return.  A  story  is  toM  of  him  tliat  illustrate-s  both  his  love  of  children 
and  his  distaste  for  pomp  and  show.  When  encamped  at  Predericksburg,  he 
received  a  gift  of  a  fine  !\ew  cap,  resplendent  in  a  band  of  dazzling  gold  braid. 
This  was  one  tlay  greatly  admired  by  a  child  of  whom  he  was  fontl,  whereupon 
Jackson  took  her  on  his  knet;,  rip])ed  the  gold  bantl  off  of  his  cap,  bound  it 
around  the  little  on(;'s  curls,  and  sent  her  away  delighted. 

Jackson  was  cai"efully  tctmperatc;  in  his  habits.  On  one  occasion,  when  he 
was  wet  and  fatigued,  his  physician  gave  him  some  whiske)-.  He  made  a  wry 
face  in  swallowing  it,  and  the  doctor  inquired  if  it  was  not  good  whisk(;y.  "  Oh, 
yes,"  he  replied,  "it's  good.     I  like  liquor;  tlutt^s  ivhy  I  don  t  drink  iL" 


J74 


THOM.lr,  JOX.  I  THAN  JACKSON. 


Oik*  of  the  most  curious  peculiarities  of  Jackson  was  a  fashion  he  had  of 
raising  his  ri^^ht  hand  aloft,  and  then  lettini:;  it  fall  suddenly  to  his  side.  He 
often  h(;ld  his  hand,  sometimes  both  hands,  thus  aloft  in  battU.-,  anil  his  li|)s  wvxn 
seen  to  move,  evidiMilly  in  |)rayer.  \ot  once,  hut  many  times,  has  the  sin_L,^uiar 
spectacle  been  presented  of  a  commander  sittiuLC  **'^  'i'!*  horse  silently  as  his 
cohmin  moved  before;  him,  his  hands  raised  to  heaven,  his  (;yes  closeil,  his  lips 
movmt;  m  prayer.  At  Chancellorsville,  as  he  recoi^nized  the  corpse  of  any  of 
his  veterans,  Ik;  would  check  his  horse,  raise  his  hands  to  heaven,  and  utter  a 
prayer  over  the  dead  body. 


HClfSK    IN    WHICH    nTONFAVAM.   JAf-KSON    TltF.D,    RirlTMOND,    V K. 


Jackson  was  a  great  hero  and  favorite  throughout  the  South  among  both 
soldiers  and  people.  They  had  the  most  implicit  faith  in  his  abilities,  and  the 
greatest  love  and  reverence  for  his  character.  Their  sentiments  were  well 
expressed  in  the  prayer  of  old  "Father  Hubert,"  of  Hays'  Louisiana  Brigade, 
who,  in  his  prayer  at  the  unveiling  of  die  Jackson  monument  in  Ne;''  Orleans, 
said  as  his  climax  :  "  And  Thou  knowest,  O  Lord!  that  when  Thou  didst  decide 
that  the  Confederacy  should  not  succeed,  Thou  hadst  first  to  remove  Thy  ser- 
vant", Stonewall  Jackson." 


JOHN   PAUL   JONES, 

AND    THB    aiANTtS    OK     THb:    A.VIKRICAN     iXAVY. 

HE  origin  of  the  Americar.  n<ivy  dates  from  the  commencement 
of  the  striinrtrlc  for  national  independence.  Up  to  that  time  the 
colonies  had  looked  to  the.  mother  country  for  protection  on  the 
seas.  So  the  outbreak  of  the  Revolution  found  them  entirely 
without  a  navy.  Their  maritime  interests  were  great,  and  their 
fishing  craft  and  merchant  vessels  were  numerous  and  were 
manned  by  singularly  able  and  daring  mariners.  But  fighting 
ships  they  had  none,  while  their  opponent  was  not  only  the 
greatest  naval  power  of  the  world,  but  was  doubtless,  at  sea,  stronger  than  all 
others  put  together.  England  was  therefore  able  not  only  to  command  the 
American  coasts  with  her  fleet,  but  also  largely  to  thwart  whatever  feeble  efforts 
toward  the  construction  of  a  navy  were  made  by  the  haggling  and  incompetent 
Continental  Congress.  Nevertheless  the  American  navy  did  then  come  into 
existence,  and  wrought  at  least  one  deed  as  immortal  in  the  history  of  the  sea, 
as  Bunker  Hill  in  that  of  the  war  upon  the  land. 

In  the  fall  of  1775,  the  building  of  thirteen  war-cruisers  was  begun  ;  but 
only  six  of  them  ever  got  to  sea.  Only  one  ship-of-the-line  was  built,  the 
"America,"  and  she  was  given  to  I'Vance  before  she  was  launched.  During  the 
whole  war,  a  total  of  twenty  small  frigates  and  twenty-one  sloops  tlew  the 
American  flag ;  and  fifteen  of  the  former  and  ten  of  the  latter  were  either 
captured  or  destroyed.  What  cockle-shells  they  were,  and  how  slight  in 
armament,  compared  with  the  floating  fortresses  of  to-day,  may  be  reckoned  from 
the  fact  that  twelve-pounders  were  their  heaviest  guns.  Beside  these,  of  course, 
there  were  many  privateers,  sent  out  to  prey  upon  the  enemy's  commerce. 
These  swift  fishing  craft  ventured  even  to  cruise  along  the  very  coast  of 
England,  and  down  to  the  time  of  the  French  alliance  captured  more  than  six 
hundred  luiglish  vessels. 

In  the  annals  of  the  regular  navy,  there  are  but  three  great  captains'  names  : 
Wickes,  Conyngham,  and  Jones.  It  was  Lambert  Wickes  who,  on  his  little 
sixteen  gun  <  Reprisal,"  first  bore  the  American  war-tlag  to  the  shores  of  Europe. 

277 


378  G/A.V/'S  or  II Ui  N.ll'Y. 

and  made  it  a  trrror  to  the-  i^-^reat  power  that  claimed  to  "rule  the  waves." 
After  a  brilliant  cruise  \\\v.  "Reijrisal  "  went  down,  with  all  hands,  in  th(;  suninK.T 
of  1777,  on  the  treacherous  banks  of  Newfcuindland.  Tiien  (lustavus  CvMiynj^hani 
took  up  the;  work,  with  his  'Surprise;"  and  "  RmcMi^c,"  and  that  \(Ty  summer 
so  scour_L;ed  the  mi^ht  of  luii^^dand  in  th<;  Xorth  S(;a  and  in  the  liritish  Channel 
itself,  that  the  ports  were  crowded  with  ships  that  dared  not  venture  out,  and 
the  rates  <jf  marine  insurance;  rose;  to  fabulous  liL,air(;s. 

Hut  the  o.u:  splendid  name  of  that  era  was  that  of  a  canny  younij  Scotch- 
man, John  Paul  Jones,  lui^diteenth  he  stood  on  the  list  of  captains  commissioned 
by  the  Coni^ress,  but  on  the  scroll  of  fame,  for  those;  times,  first — and  there  is  no 
second.  Comini.,^  to  \  ir^inia  in  l)e)yhoe)eI,  he  ente-reel  the;  mercantile  marine. 
When  the;  war  bre)ke  out  he  ejffereel  his  se;rvices  te)  the  Ce)nL,aess,  anel  was  made 
a  captain.  Anel  in  177S  he  was  sent  with  the  "  Ran^e-r,"  e)f  ei^hte;e;n  ^uns,  to 
folle)w  whe;re'  Wickes  and  Conyni^ham  hael  led.  lie:  swept  with  his  tiny  craft  up 
and  down  thi'  Irish  Channel,  enteretl  W'hitehaxcn  anel  burned  the;  shippinj,'^  at 
the  docks;  captured  off  Carrickfergus  the  liritish  war-sloop  "Drake,"  larger 
than  his  own  ship,  anel  then  maele  his  way  to  Hrest  with  all  his  prizes  in  tow. 

Next  year  he  set  out  on  his  immortal  cruise,  with  a  s(piadre)n  of  five;  ships. 
His  flagship  was  an  old  merchantman,  the  "L)uras,"  fitted  up  for  fighting  and 
renamed  the  "Bon  Homme  Richard,"  in  honor  of  I'ranklin  and  his  "  Poor 
Richard's  Almanac."  .She;  was  a  clumsy  affair,  armed  with  thirty-two  twelve- 
pounders  and  si.x  old  eighteen-pounders  not  fit  fejr  use,  and  manned  by  380  men 
of  every  race,  from  New  P^nglanders  to  Malays.  The  "Pallas"  was  also  a 
merchantman  transformeei  inte)  a  thirty-two  gun  frigate.  The  "  \'engeance  '  and 
the  "Cerf"  were  much  smaller;  epiite  insignificant.  The  "Alliance"  was  a 
new  ship,  built  in  Massachusetts  for  the  navy,  but  unhappily  commaneled  by  a 
Frenchman  named  Lanelais,  half  foe>l,  half  knave.  Indeed,  all  the  vessels  .save 
the  flagship  were  commanded  by  Frenchme-n,  who  were  openly  insubordinate, 
refusing  half  the  time  to  recognize  the  ce)mmodore's  authority,  anel  often  l{;aving 
him  te)  cruise  and  fight  aie)ne.  \\x  the  motley  squadron  eliel  much  execution 
along  the;  shores  of  Pritain.  It  all  but  captured  the  city  of  Leith,  and  entered 
Humb(;r  anel  destroyed  much  shipj)ing. 

Hut  the  crowning  glory  came  on  .September  23,  1779.  On  that  immortal 
date  Jones  e-spieel,  off  Mamborough  Head,  a  fleet  of  forty  British  merchantmen, 
guardeel  by  two  frigate-s,  bounel  fe)r  the  Baltic.  At  once  he  gave  chase.  He 
hael,  be-sieles  his  e)wn  ship,  only  the  "  Pallas  "  and  the  "  Alliance,"  but  they  would 
be  sufficie;nt  te)  capture  the  whole  fleet.  Hut  the  miserable  Landais  refused  to 
obey  the  signal,  and  kept  out  of  the  action.  .So  the  fight  began,  two  and  two. 
Jones,  with  the  "  Hon  Hejmme  Richard,"  attacked  the  "Sera[)is,"  Captain  Pear- 
son, anel  the  "  Pallas"  engaged  the  "  Ce)untess  of  Scarborough."  The  "  Sera- 
pMS  "  had  fifty  guns  and  was  much  faster  and  stronger  than  Jones's  ship.     The 


JOH.yr  PAUr.  /ONUS  AM)  niS  /■A.UOi'S  VICTORY. 


37t 


"Countess   of   Scarl)oroui,fh,"    on    tlu'  other   hand,    was   niuch   inferior  to  the 
"  I'allas  "  and  proved  an  early  victim. 

It  was  i^rowinin  dark,  on  a  clouily  evpnin*;,  and  the  sea  was  smooth  as  a 
mill-pond.  whiMi  the  "  Hon  1  lomine  Richard"  and  the  "  Serapis  "  bet^^an  their 
awful  diK.'l.  Hoth  fired  full  broadsides  at  th(!  same  instant.  Two  of  Jones's  old 
ei_t(hteen-pound<;rs  burst,  killin-^^  twelve  men,  and  the  others  were  at  once  aban- 
doned. So  all  through  the  ri,«;ht,  after  that  first  volley,  lu:  had  only  his  thirty-twc 
twelve-pounders  against  tlui 
fifty  guns — twenty  of  them 
eightcen-poundiTs.  twenty 
nine-pounders,  and  ten  si.\- 
pounders — of  tlu;  "  Ser.ipis." 
I'or  an  hour  th(;y  fought  and 
man(L'Uvred.  then  came  to- 
gether with  a  crash.  An 
instant,  the  firing  ceased. 
"  Have  you  struck  your 
colors?"  demanded  Pearson. 
"  I  have  not  yet  begun  to 
fight !  "  replied  Jones.  Then 
with  his  own  hands  Jones 
lashed  the;  two  ships  together, 
and  inseparably  joined,  their 
sides  actually  touching,  tht!y 
battled  on.  Solid  shot  and 
canister  swept  through  both 
ships  like  hail,  while  musket- 
men  on  the  decks  and  in  the 
rigging  exchanged  storms  of 
bulU'ts.  bor  an  hour  and  a 
half  the  conflict  raged.  Then 
Landais  came  up  with  the 
"  Alliance  "  and  began  firing 
equally  on  both.  Jones  ortlered  him  to  go  to  the  (nher  side  of  the  "  Serapis  " 
and  board,  and  his  answer  was  to  turn  helm  and  g(j  out  of  the;  fight  altogether. 
Now  the  fighting  ships  were  both  afire,  and  both  leaking  and  sinking.  iMost 
of  the  guns  were  disabled,  and  three-fourths  of  the  men  were  killed  or 
wounded.  The  gallant  Pearson  stood  almost  alone  on  the  deck  of  the  doomed 
"Serapis,"  not  one  of  his  men  able  to  fight  longer.  Jones  was  as  solitary  on 
the  "Hon  Homme  Richard,"  all  his  men  still  able-bodied  being  at  the  pumps, 
striving  to  keep  the  shi[)  alloat.     With  his  own  hands  he  trained  a  gun  upon 


I'AVI.    JdNia. 


38o  G/.IXTS  OF  THE  XAVY. 

the  mainmast  of  the  "Serapis,"  and  cut  it  down;  and  th(^n  Pearson  surren- 
dered. The  "I'alias"  and  "Aniance"  came  up  and  took  off  the  men,  and  in 
a  few  hours  the  two  ships  sank,  still  bound  tot;ether  in  the  clasp  of  death. 

This  was  not  only  one  of  the  most  desj)erate  and  deadly  naval  battles 
in  history.  Its  moral  effect  was  epoch-makini^^.  John  Paul  Jones  was  the 
hero  of  the  day,  and  Europe  showered  honors  upon  him.  The  American  flag 
was  hailed  as  a  rival  to  that  of  Knj,dand  on  the  seas,  and  all  Europe  was 
encouraged  to  unite  against  lingland  and  force  her  to  abate  her  arrogant  pre- 
tensions, and  to  accede  to  a  more  just  and  liberal  code  of  international  maritime 
law  than  had  before  prevailed.  In  view  of  this  latter  fact,  this  battle  must  be 
ranked  among  the  three  or  four  most  important  in  the  naval  history  of  the 
world.  It  was  this  battle  that  inspired  Catharine  of  Russia  to  enunciate  the 
doctrine  of  the  rights  of  neutrals  in  maritime  affairs  ;  and  the  tardy  acquiescence 
of  England,  eighty  years  later,  in  that  now  universal  principle,  was  brought 
about  by  the  blow  struck  by  John  Paul  Jones  off  Elamborough  Head. 

There  were  no  other  naval  operations  of  importance  during  the  Revolution, 
save  those  of  the  Erench  fleet  at  Vorktown.  But  soon  after  the  declaration  of 
peace,  new  complications  arose,  threatening  a  war  at  sea.  England  and  I'Vance 
were  fighting  each  other,  and  commerce  was  therefore  diverted  to  the  ship])ing 
of  other  nations.  A  very  large  share  of  Europe's  carrying  trade  was  done  by 
American  vessels.  But  these  were  between  two  fires.  England  insisted  that 
she  had  a  right  to  stop  and  search  American  ships  and  take  from  them  all 
sailors  of  English  birth  ;  actually  taking  whom  she  pleased  ;  and  I'^rance  made 
free  to  seize  any  American  ships  she  pleased,  under  the  pretext  that  there  were 
English  goods  aboard  ;  and  when  she  captured  an  English  ship  and  found  on 
board  an  American  seaman  who  had  been  impressed,  instead  of  treating  him 
as  a  prisoner  of  war,  like  the  others,  she  hanged  him  as  a  pirate. 

Naturally  indignation  rose  high,  and  preparations  were  made  for  war  with 
France.  In  July,  i  798,  the  three  famous  frigates,  the  "Constellation,"  the  "United 
States,"  and  the  "  Constitution,"  best  known  as  "Old  Ironsides,"  were  sent  to  sea, 
and  Congress  authorized  the  navy  to  be  increased  to  include  si.\  frigates,  twelve 
sloops,  and  six  smaller  craft.  Among  the  officers  commissioned,  were  the  illus- 
trious Bainbridge,  Hull,  Decatur,  Rodgers,  and  .Stewart.  Actual  hostilities  soon 
began.  French  piratical  cruisers  were  captured,  and  an  American  squadron 
sailed  for  the  West  Indies  to  deal  with  the  French  privateers  that  abounded 
there,  in  which  work  it  was  generally  successful.  In  January,  1799,  Congress 
voted  a  million  ilollars,  for  building  six  ships  of  the  line  and  six  sloops.  Soon 
after,  on  P""ebruary  9,  occurred  the  first  engagement  between  vessels  of  the 
American  and  French  navies.  The  "Constellation,"  Captain  Truxton,  over- 
hauled "  L'Insurgente,"  at  St.  Kitts.  in  the  West  Indies,  and  after  a  fight  of  an 
hour  and  a  quarter  forced  her  to  surrender.     The  "  Constellation  "  had  three 


SUITRESSLYG  THE  nARBARY  PIRATES.  38 

men  killed  and  one  wounded;  "  L'Insiirgente "  twenty  killed  and  forty-six 
wounded. 

Again,  on  I-'ebruary  i,  iSoo,  Truxton  with  tht  "Constellation"  came  up,  at 
Guadeloupe,  with  the  I'Vench  1-Vigate  "  La  X'engeance."  Alter  chasing  her  two 
days  he  brought  on  an  action.  The  two  ships  fought  all  night.  In  the 
morning,  "La  X'engeance,"  ciMiipletely  silenced  and  shattered,  drew  away  and 
escaped  to  Curacoa,  where  she  was  condemned  as  unfit  for  further  service. 
The  "  Constellation  "  was  little  injured  save  in  her  rigging.  I'or  his  gallantry, 
Truxton  received  a  gold  medal  from  Congress.  Later  in  that  year  there 
were  some  minor  engagements,   in  which  Americans  were  successful. 

Hy  the  spring  of  1801,  friendly  relations  with  1'" ranee  were  restorctl.  The 
President  was  accordingly  authorized  to  dispose  of  all  the  navy,  save  thirteen 
ships,  six  of  which  were  to  be  kept  constantly  in  commission,  and  to  dismiss 
from  the  service  all  officers  save  nine  captains,  thirty-six  lieutenants,  and  one 
hundred  and  fifty  midshipmen.  At  about  this  time  ground  was  i)urchased  and 
navy-yards  established  at  Portsmouth,  Poston,  New  York,  Philadelphia,  Wash- 
ington and  Norfolk,  and  half  a  million  dollars  was  appropriated  for  the 
completion  of  six  seventy-four  gun  ships. 

Now  came  on  real  war.  I"or  many  years  the  pirate  ships  of  the  liarbary 
States,  Algeria  and  Tripoli,  had  been  the  scourge  of  the  Mediterranean.  The 
commerce  of  every  land  had  suffered.  European  powers  did  not  venture  to 
suppress  the  evil,  but  some  of  them  basely  purchased  immunity  by  paying 
tribute  to  the  pirates.  America,  too,  at  first  followed  this  humiliating  course, 
actually  thus  paying  millions  of  dollars.  In  September,  iSoo,  Captain  Bainbridge 
went  with  the  frigate  "  George  Washington  "  to  bear  to  the  Dey  of  Algeria  the 
annual  tribute.  The  Dey  took  the  money,  and  then  impressed  Bainbridge  and 
his  ship  into  his  own  service  for  a  time,  to  go  on  an  errand  to  Constantinople. 
Bainbridge  reported  this  to  Congress,  adding,  "  I  hope  I  shall  never  again  be 
sent  with  tribute,  unless  to  deliver  it  from  the  mouth  of  our  cannon."  However, 
Bainbridge  was  received  courteously  at  Constantinople,  and  his  ship  was  the 
first  to  display  the  American  Hag  there. 

Captain  Dale  was  sent  with  a  squadron  to  the  Mediterranean  in  1 801,  to 
repress  the  pirates  of  Tripoli.  One  of  his  shi|)s,  the  schooner  "  Exijeriment," 
captured  a  Tripolitan  cruiser,  and  this  checked  for  a  time  the  ardor  of  the  pirates. 
But  open  war  was  soon  declared  between  the  two  countries,  and  Congress 
authorized  the  sending  of  a  larger  fieet  to  the  Mediterranean.  The  gallant 
Truxton  was  offered  the  command  of  it,  but  declined  because  the  cheese-paring 
Administration  was  too  parsimonious  to  allow  him  a  proper  staff  of  subordinates. 
Thereupon  he  was  dismissed  from  the  service,  and  Captain  Morris  sent  in  his 
place.  But  false  economy  had  so  enfeebled  the  navy  that  the  fleet  was  able  to 
do  little.     One  Tripolitan  ship  was  captured,  however,  and  another  destroyed. 


382  (JLLV/S  01'  II IE  WWV. 

Then  the  Government  woke  up,  and  l)(•L,^'ln  buiUlins^  new  ships,  and  sent 
another  scjuailron  over,  U;d  by  Preble  with  the  "Constitution."  lie  went  first 
to  Morocco,  whose  Sultan  at  once  sued  lor  peace ;  and  then  proceeded  to 
Trii)oli.  Hen;  lu:  founil  that  the  fri_i,fate  "Philadelphia,"  with  MainbriiliL^e  and 
three  hundred  men  aboard,  hatl  been  captured  and  was  beini^^  refitted  by  the 
Iripolitans  for  their  own  use.  1  )ecatur,  coininandinL,'^  the  "  Ijitcrprisc;,"  under 
Preble,  determined  ujjon  a  bold  counttT-strokM,-.  Takini.,'  a  small  vessel,  the 
"Intrepid,"  which  h(;  had  captured  from  Tripoli,  he  sailed  boldly  into  the 
harbor,  tlyinj^^  the  'Pripolitan  llaLj  and  pretendinj^^  to  b(;  a  merchant  of  that 
country.  Runninj^  aloni^side  the  "  I'hiladelphia, "  he  boardtnl  her,  set  her  afire, 
and  sailetl  away  in  safety,  thouL,di  amitl  a  storm  of  shot  and  shell.  The  "  Phila- 
delphia "  was  burned  to  the  watt;r's  eds^n,-. 

Nothini^  more  was  done  at  the  time,  however,  save  to  keep  up  a  blockade, 
and  Hainbrid^e  and  his  men  remained  in  captivity.  In  Auj^ust,  1804,  Preble  and 
Decatur  made  a  vij^orous  attack  upon  the  harbor,  and  destroyed  two  and 
captured  \\\rvx-.  vessels.  A  few  days  later  other  attacks  were  maile.  Then  a 
new  s(piadron  under  Commodore  Barron  came  t(j  the  scene,  and  Preble  was 
supt^rsedeil.  No  other  naval  operations  of  importance  occurred,  and  peace  was 
finally  concluded  in   1S05. 

Troubles  with  Iini:;land  now  c^rew  more  serious.  That  country  persisted  in 
searchini;  American  ships  and  taki.iL^  from  them  all  whom  she  chose  to  call 
deserters  from  the  British  si^rvici;.  And  so  the  two  powers  drifted  into  the  war 
of  1S12.  In  that  struL;;i,de,  tht;  Americans  were  badly  worsted  on  lami,  but  won 
victories  of  the  first  ma^Miitude  on  the  lakes  and  ocean.  America  had  only 
nine;  frii^ates  and  a  score  of  smaller  rraft,  while  luii^dand  had  a  hundred  ships  of 
the  line.  Yet  th«!  honors  of  the  war  on  the  sea  rested  with  the  former.  Her 
triumphs  startleil  the  world.  Th<;  destruction  of  the  "Guerriere"  by  the 
"Constitution,"  Captain  Hull,  marke-d  an  ej)och  in  naval  history.  Then  the 
"United  States,"  Captain  I  )ecatur,  vanc|uished  the  "Macedonian;"  the 
"Wasp,"  Captain  Jones,  tin;  "  I'rolic  ;"  tlie  "Constitution,"  Captain  Hainbridsre, 
the  "Java;"  ami  the  "  Hornet "  the  "Peacock."  On  Lake  I'>ie,  Commodore 
Perry  won  a  threat  victory,  which  h(;  announced  in  the  famous  messajjfe,  "  We 
have  met  the  (Mieiny,  and  they  are  ours."  ICcpially  brilliant  was  the  victory  of 
MacDonouLjh  on  Lakt;  Champlain.  The  most  deplorable  r(?v(;rse  was  the 
destruction  ot  the  "  Chesapeakt; "  by  the  British  ship  "Shannon,"  the  "Chesa- 
peake's" commander,  Lawrence;,  losint''  his  life,  but  winniuLj  fame  throui^h  his 
dyintr  words,    "  Don't  i^ive  up  the  ship  !" 

The  contlicts  of  this  war  are  more  fully  detailed  elsewhere  in  this  volume. 
It  is  needful  h(;re  only  to  mention  them  briefly,  as  we  have  done.  The  cause  of 
the  surprisini:^  successf^s  of  the  Americans  may  well  be  explained,  however. 
It  was  due  to  that  very  inventive  ins^^enuity  that  has  made  the  history  of  the 


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3S4  G/AXTS  OF  THE  XAVY. 

■world's  industrial  procuress  so  lari^fcly  a  mere  ciironiclc  of  "Yankee  notions." 
The  Americans  had  invented  ami  were  usint,'^  sit^hts  on  their  cannon.  That  was 
all.  But  the  result  was  that  their  aiua  was  far  more  accurate  and  th(;ir  fire  far 
more  effective  than  that  of  their  oijponeiits.  This  advantat^^t--,  added  to  courage 
and  skill  in  seamanship  equal  to  any  the  world  had  known,  gave  them  their 
victory. 

This  war  was  ended  in  February,  181 5,  and  a  month  later  another  was 
begun.  This  was  against  the  Dey  of  Algeria,  who  h.ul  broken  the  peace  and 
seized  an  American  shij),  tl(;spite  the  fact  that  America  had  continued  liown  to 
this  time  to  pay  tribute  to  him.  It  was  now  determined  to  make  an  vm(\.  of  the 
business ;  so  liainbriilge  was  sent,  as  he  had  requested,  to  deliver  the  final 
tribute  from  his  cannons'  mouths.  Hef(jre  he  got  there,  however,  Decatur,  did 
the  work.  Me  captunxl  an  Algerine  vessel  ;  sailed  into  port  and  dictated  an 
honorable  [)eace  ;  and  then  impos(Hl  like  terms  on  Tn]j()li  and  Tunis,  thus 
ending  the  tyranny  of  the  Barbary  .States  over  the  commerce  of  the  world. 

Thereafter  for  many  years  the  navy  had  not  much  to  do.  Some  vessels  were 
used  for  purposes  of  exploration  and  research,  and  much  was  thereby  added  to 
the  scientific  knowledge  of  the  world.  During  the  IMe.xican  war,  naval  opera 
tions  were  unimportant.  But  in  1S46  complications  with  Japan  were  begun. 
In  that  year  two  ships  were  sent  to  the  Island  empire,  on  an  errand  of  peaceful 
negotiation,  which  proved  fruitless.  Three  years  later  another  went,  on  a 
sterner  errand,  and  rescued  at  the  cannon's  mouth  a  number  of  shipwrecked 
American  sailors  who  had  been  thrown  into  captivity. 

iMnally  the  task  of  "opening  Japan"  to  intercourse  with  the  rest  of  the 
world,  a  task  no  other  power  had  ventured  to  assume,  was  undertaken  by 
America.  On  November  24,  1852,  Commodore  Berry  set  sail  thither,  with  a 
powerful  fieet.  His  commission  was  to  "  open  Japan";  by  peaceful  diplomacy 
if  he  could,  by  force  of  arms  if  he  must.  The  simple  show  of  force  was 
sufficient,  and  in  1S54,  he  returned  in  triumph,  bearing  a  treaty  with  Japan. 

The  most  extended  and  important  services  of  the  I'nited  States  navy  were 
performed  during  the  War  of  the  Rebellion  At  the  outbreak  of  that  confiict, 
in  1 86 1,  the  whole  navy  comprised  only  forty-two  vessels  in  commission. 
Nearly  all  of  these  were  scattered  in  distant  parts  of  the  world,  where  they  had 
been  purposely  sent  by  the  conspirators  at  Washington.  Most  of  those  that 
remained  were  destroyed  in  port,  so  that  there  was  actually  for  a  time  only  one 
serviceable  war-ship  on  the  North  Atlantic  coast.  But  building  and  purchase 
soon  increased  the  navy,  so  that  before  the  end  of  the  year  it  numbered  two 
hundred  and  sixty-four,  and  was  able  to  blockade  all  the  ports  of  the  Southern 
Confederacy.  They  were  a  motley  set,  vessels  of  every  imaginable  type,  ferry- 
boats and  freight  steamers,  even,  being  pressed  into  use  ;  but  they  served. 

The  first  important  naval  action  was  that  at  Hatteras  Inlet,  in  August,  1861. 


/'ASS/Xa   THE  I'ORTS.  385 

rh<'rt:  Coinmo'.lon;  .StrinL,fhaiii,  with  a  licet  of  steam  antl  sailinjTj  craft,  bomKarded 
a  series  of  powt-rful  forts  and  forced  llu-in  to  surrender,  witliout  the  loss  of  a  siii>^le 
man  al)oard  the  shi|)s.  Next  came  the  storming;  «)f  I'ort  Royal.  At  the  eml  of 
October  (."onimodore  Oiipoiit  and  Coininaiide-r  Roil^crs  went  thither  with  a 
stroHi^r  s(|iiadr<)n.  1  hey  entered  the  harbor,  and  formeil  with  their  ships  an 
ellipse,  w  liich  ke|)t  constantly  rev()lvinL,^  oi)pt)site  the  forts,  and  constantly  ponrint; 
in  a  murderous  tire.  It  w.is  earllnvorks  on  land  ai,^\inst  old-fashioneil  wooden 
ships  on  tin;  water:  but  the  ships  W(jn,  and  the  forts  surrenilered.  A  small 
flotilla  of  rebitl  i^ninboals  came  to  the  assistance  of  the  forts,  but  were  (piickiy 
repulsed  by  the  h(.'avy  lir*.'  from  the  ships. 

1  h(.'  ne.\t  year  saw  much  naval  aclivit\'  in  many  (piarters.  The  blockade 
of  all  .SouthtTn  ports  was  rij^^orously  maintained,  ami  there  were  some  e.xcitin^^ 
cnj^aLjements  between  tlie  national  ships  and  blockade  runners.  On  the 
Cumberland,  Ohio,  Tenni-ssetj  and  Mississippi  Ri\-ers  tin;  Ljunboats  of  b'oote 
and  Porter  t,M-eatly  aicUnl  the  lar.d  force-s,  in  th(.'  campaii^ns  ai^Minst  I'ort  Henry 
and  b'ort  1  )onelson,  at  Island  Xo.  10.  and  \'icksbin;L,^  Roanoke  Island  and 
New  Heme,  on  the  Carolina  coast,  were  taken  by  a  combined  naval  and  military 
expetlition. 

( )neof  the  most  strikiuL,"^  events  of  the  war  was  the  entrance  of  the  Mississi])pi 
and  capture  of  New  ( )rleans  by  Admiral  I'.-irraL,^!^  He  had  a  fleet  of  forty 
vessels,  all  told.  ( )ppose(I  to  him  were  two  ^••reat  and  strong;  land  forts,  Jacks(jn 
and  .St.  Philip,  one  on  each  side  of  tin;  river,  moiuitint^f  two  hundred  and  twenty- 
five  i.^uns.  I'rom  one  to  the  other  str(>tched  a  ponderous  iron  chain,  completely 
barring'  the  i^assas^^e,  and  beyond  this  was  a  fleet  of  iron-clad  trund^oats,  fire- 
ships,  etc.  Military  and  naval  authorities  scouted  the  idea  that  Farrajrut's 
wooden  ships  coidd  ever  fii^dit  their  way  throus^h.  Hut  I'arrai^ut  quietly  scouted 
the  authoritii^s.  Makini:^  his  way  up  to  within  ram^e  of  the  forts  he  beL,''an  a 
bombardnuMit.  C)n  the  first  day  his  j:,nms  threw  2000  shells  at  the  enemy. 
A  huii^e  fire-raft  was  sent  acjainst  him,  but  his  ships  avoided  it  and  it  passed 
harmlessly  by.  Another  was  st-nt  down  tliat  nii^dit,  a  floating  mountain  of  tlame. 
Hut  one  of  P'arrat^i'ut's  captains  deliberately  ran  his  ship  into  it,  turned  a  hose 
upon  it,  and  towed  it  out  of  the  way  ! 

P'or  a  week  the  tremendous  bombardment  was  kept  up,  l6,Soo  shells  beinj^ 
thrown  at  the  forts.  Then  I-'arrai^'ut  cut  the  chain,  and  started  to  run  the  fiery 
j^'auntlet  of  the  forts  with  his  fleet.  Hefore  daylight  one  morning  the  mortar- 
boats  opened  a  furious  fire,  under  cover  of  which  the  ships  steamed  straight  up 
the  river.  The  forts  opened  on  them  with  every  gun,  a  perfect  storm  of  shot 
and  shell,  and  the  ships  replied  with  full  broadsides.  Five  hundred  cannon 
were  thundering.  One  ship  was  disabletl  and  dropped  back.  The  rest  swept 
on  in  a  cloud  of  flame.  Hefore  they  were  past  the  forts,  fire-ships  came  down 
upon  them,  and  iron-clad  gunboats  attacked  them.     The  "Varuna,"  Captain 

23 


S86 


CfAXTS  OF  THE  XAVY. 


Bopfc^s,  was  surroundod  by  five  rebel  piinboats,  and  sank  them  all.  As  the  last 
of  them  sank,  a  sixth,  a  hu,t,'e  iron-clad  ram,  came  rushini:^  upon  the  "V'arima." 
Hot,r<fs  saw  he  could  not  escape  it,  so  he  turntul  the  •  X'aruna  "  so  as  to  receive 
the  blow  s(iuarely  amidships.  The  ram  cruslied  her  like  an  eirtr-shell,  and  in  a 
few  miniite-s  she  sank.  IJiit  her  fearful  liroadsides,  at  such  close  rani^e,  riddled 
the  ram,  and  the  two  went  down  tot,fether.  In  an  hour  and  a  half  eleven  rebel 
gunboats  were  sent  to  the  bottom,  and  the   lleet  was   past  the  forts.     Next 


sinking;  'ik  the  aladama. 


morninof  Farragut  raised  the  national  Hag  above  the  captured   city  of   New 
Orleans. 

This  tremendous  conflict  was  not,  however,  the  most  sit^nificant  of  that 
year.  There  was  another  which,  in  a  sinL,de  hour,  revolutionized  the  art  of 
naval  warfare.  When,  at  the  outbreak  of  the  war,  the  Norfolk  Navy-yard  had 
been  destroyed  to  keep  it  from  falling-  into  rebel  hands,  one  ship  partially  escaped 
the  flames.     This  was  the  great  frigate  "  Merrimac,"  probably  the  finest  ship  in 


THE  -MOXITOR"  AXD  "MURK/ MAC"  387 

the  whole  navy.  The  ConlViK-ratt^s  took  her  hull,  which  rcniainfil  iininjured. 
ami  covered  it  completely  with  a  slopiiiL,^  roof  of  iron  platt.-s  lour  iiulus  thick, 
backed  with  heavy  timbers,  put  a  j^M-eat  iron  ram  at  her  bow,  and  titled  iier  with 
larj^'c  ^uns  ami  [)owerful  eniL,nnes.  Then,  to  protect  ht-r  further,  she  was  coated 
thickly  with  tallow  and  plumba_!^'o.  She  was  rej^artled  as  entirely  invulnerable 
to  cannon-shot,  and  her  buililers  believetl  she  would  easily  destroy  all  ships  sent 
against  her  and  place  New  York  and  all  Northern  seaports  at  the  mercy  of  her 
guns.  At  the  same  time  a  curious  little  craft  was  built,  hurriedly  eiiouj^h,  in 
New  York.  It  was  tU;sij^rned  by  John  Mricsson,  and  was  calletl  the  "  ^b)nitor," 
It  consisted  of  a  hull  nearly  all  submeri^a-d,  its  llat  iron  deck  only  a  few  inches 
above  the  water,  ami  upon  this  a  circular  iron  tower,  which  was  trrned  round  and 
round  by  machinery  and  which  carried  two  lar<,'e  truns.  Naval  experts  lauj^lied 
at  tlu;  "chees(;-box  on  a  plank,"  as  thi-y  called  it,  ami  thouL;ht  it  unworthy  of 
serious  consitleration. 

A    kr.VoI.lTIoX    IN    N.WAI.    W  AklAUK. 

At  noon  of  Saturday,  March  S,  the  mii^hty  "  Merrimac,"  a  lloatin^j  fortress 
of  iron,  came  down  the  lili/abeth  \\\\vx  to  where  th(;  National  tleet  lay  in 
Ibimpton  Roads.  The  friL^ate  "  Conj^ress "  fired  upon  lu-r,  but  she  i)aid  no 
attention  to  it,  but  movetl  on  to  the  sloop  of  war  "Cumberland,"  crusluxl  her  side 
in  with  a  blow  of  her  ram,  riiUlled  her  with  cannon-balls,  and  sent  her  to  the 
bottom.  The  solid  shot  from  the  "  Cumberlaml's  "  ten-inch  o'uns  i^lancetl  from 
the  "  Merrimac's  "  armor,  harmless  as  so  many  peas.  Then  the  monster  turned 
back  to  the  "  Conj^Tess  "  and  destroyed  her.  Next  she  attacked  the  frigate 
"  Minnesota  "  and  drove  her  a/round,  and  then  retired  for  the  ni^ht,  intendini^ 
the  next  day  to  return,  destro,'  the  entire  lleet,  and  proceed  northward  to 
boniliard  New  ^'ork. 

That  niL,dit  the  "Monitor"  arrived.  She  had  been  hurriedly  completed. 
She  hail  come  down  from  New  York  in  a  storm,  and  was  leakiuL;  and  her 
machinery  was  out  of  onler.  She  was  not  in  condition  for  service.  But  she 
was  all  that  lay  between  the  "Merrimac"  and  the  boundh-ss  destruction  at 
which  she  aimed.  .So  she  anchored  at  the  side  of  the  "  Minnesota"  and  waited 
for  dayliL,dit.  It  came,  a  beautiful  Sunday  morninLC ;  and  down  came  the  huj^e 
"  Merrimac"  to  continue  her  deadly  work.  Out  steamed  the  tiny  "Monitor" 
to  meet  her.  The  "  Merrimac  "  som,dit  to  itjnore  her,  and  attackeil  thii  "  Minne- 
sota." But  the  "Monitor"  would  not  be  ii^^nored.  Captain  W'orden  ran  her 
alonjrside  the  "Merrimac,"  so  that  they  almost  touched,  and  hurled  his  160-lb. 
shot  at  the  iron  monster  as  rapidly  as  the  two  jjj^uns  could  be  vorkcd. 
Those  shots,  at  that  ranfje,  told,  as  all  the  broadsides  of  the  frigates  had  not. 
Thj  "Merrimac's"  armor  began  to  yield,  while  her  own  firing  had  no  effect 
upon  the  "  Monitor."  It  was  seldom  she  could  hit  the  little  craft  at  all,  and 
when  she  did  the  shots  glanced  off  without   harm.     Five  times  she  tried  to 


5S8  G/.LXrs  OF  TlUi  XAVY. 

ran;  the  "  Monitor,"  but  the  latter  eluded  her.  A  sixth  time  she  tri(-d  it,  and 
the  "Monitor"  stootl  still  and  let  hi.'r  come  on.  The  ^reat  iron  beak  that 
had  crushed  in  the  side  of  the  "Cumberland"  nu-ri'ly  L^lanced  on  the  "Moni- 
tor's "  armor  and  s^lided  upon  her  deck.  The  "  Merrimac "  was  so  lifted 
and  tilted  as  to  expose  the  unarmon-d  part  of  her  hull  to  the  "  Monitor's  " 
deadly  tire,  while  llie  "Monitor"  (juickly  slid  out  from  under  her,  uninjured. 
Then  the  "  Merrimac  "  retreated  up  the  river,  and  her  caree-r  was  ended.  She 
was  a  mere  wreck.  lUit  the  "  Monitor,"  thoui^h  struck  by  twenty-two  heavy 
shots,  was  practically  uninjured.  Ihe  only  ukui  hurt  on  the  "Monitor"  was 
the  <;allant  Captain  W'orden.  He  was  lookin<;'  throuLj'h  the  i)eep-hole  when  one 
of  the  "  Mi'rriniac's"  last  shots  struck  scpiarely  just  outside.  Ib^  was_  stunned 
])y  the'  shock  anil  halt-blinded  by  splinters  ;  but  his  first  words  on  regaining 
consciousness  were,  "  Mave  we  saved  the  '  Minnesota    ?  " 

The  "Monitor"  hatl  saved  the  "Minnesota,"  and  all  the  rest  of  the  fleet, 
and  j^robably  many  Northern  cities.  I5ut,  more  than  that,  she  had,  in  that  grim 
duel,  revolutionized  naval  warfare.  In  that  hour  England  saw  her  great  ships 
of  the  line  condemned.  The  splendid  frigates,  with  their  tiers  of  gims,  were 
thenceforth  out  of  datt^  and  worthless.  The  "  cheese-bo.\  on  a  plank"  in  a 
single  ilay  had  vanquishetl  all  the  navies  of  the  world. 

The  success  of  barragut  in  passing  the  Mississippi  forts  led  Dupont,  in 
April,  iS6_^,  to  attempt  in  like  manner  to  enter  Charleston  harbor  ;  but  in  vain. 
The  tn-e  from  the  forts  was  too  tierce,  and  his  tleet  was  forced  to  fall  back  with 
heavy  losses.  Hut  in  August,  1S64,  I'arrag'ut  repeated  his  former  exploit  at 
Mobile.  b'orming  his  ships  in  line  of  battle,  he  stood  in  the  rigging  of  the 
"  1  lartford,"  glass  in  hand,  and  directed  their  movements.  As  L)u[jont  had  done 
at  Port  Royal,  he  swej)t  round  and  round  in  a  tlery  ellipse.  At  a  critical  jjoint  in 
the  battle  the  lookout  reported.  "  Torpedoes  ahead  !"  A  cry  arose  to  stop  the  ship. 
"Go  ahead!  Hamn  the  torpedoes!"  roared  the  great  Atlmiral,  and  the  ship 
went  on.  Then  the  huge  iron  ram  "Tennessee"  came  forward,  to  crush  them 
as  the  "^b;rrimac"  had  crushed  the  "Cumberland."  But  Farragut,  wiih 
sublime  autlacity,  turned  the  bow  of  his  wooden  ship  up(jn  her  and  ran  her 
down.  Thus  the  Mobile  forts  were  silenced  and  the  harbor  cleared.  Xor 
must  tht^  storming  of  l-'ort  I'isher  be  forgotten.  The  first  attack  was  made  in 
])ecember,  i  S64.  Admiral  Porter  bombarded  the  place  furioush-,  and  then 
General  lUitler  attempted  to  take  it  with  land  forces.  He  failed,  and  returned 
to  b'ortress  McEnroe,  saying  the  place  could  not  be  taken.  But  Porter  thought 
otherwise,  and  remained  at  his  post  with  his  tleet.  General  Terry  then  went 
down  with  an  army,  Porter  reneweil  the  bombardment,  the  fort  was  captured, 
and  the  last  port  of  the  Confederacy  was  closed. 

While  the  National  navy  was  thus  carrying  all  before  it  along  the  coast, 
the  Confederates  were  active  elsewhere.     Their  swift,  armed  cruisers,  fitted  out 


.b'AVA'AV-;  (V'  THE  ALABAMA.  l^ 

in  English  ports,  scoured  the  seas  and  i)rey(;d  upon  American  commerce  evciv- 
where,  until  the  American  merchant  Ikii^  was  almost  banisht:d  from  the  ocean. 
The  most  famous  of  all  these  cruisers  was  the  "Alabama,"  commanded  bv 
Raphael  Semmes.  Durinc,''  her  career  she  destroyed  more  than  ten  million 
dollars'  worth  of  American  shipping".  I'or  a  lon:^^  time  \\vx  speed  and  the  skill 
and  tlaring  of  her  commander  kept  her  out  of  the  hands  of  the  American  navy, 
liut  at  last,  in  June,  1S64,  Captain  Winslow,  with  the  ship  "  Kearsar^j^e,"  came 
up  with  her  in  the  neutral  harbor  of  Cherbouri^',  brance.  Det(.'rmined  to  make 
an  end  of  her,  he  waited,  just  outside"  the  harbor,  for  her  to  come  out.  Semmes 
soon  accepted  the  challentji'e,  and  the  duel  occurred  on  Sunday,  June  19.  I'he 
shore  was  crowde'd  with  spectators,  antl  many  yachts  and  other  craft  canie  out, 
bearing''  huntlreels  anxious  to  see  the  battle.  The  vessels  were  not  far  from 
equal  in  streni^th.  Hut  the  "  Kearsar^e  "  had  two  huge  eleven-inch  pivot  guns, 
that  made  awful  liavoc  on  the  "Alabama."  The  "Alabama,"  on  the  other 
hand,  had  more  guns  than  the  "  Kearsarge."  P)Ut  the  famous  cruiser's  time 
had  come.  As  the  two  ships  slowly  circled  round  and  round,  keei)ing  up  a 
constant  fire,  every  shot  from  the  "  Kearsarge"  seemed  to  find  its  mark,  while 
those  of  the  "Alabama"  went  wide.  And  soon  the  "Alabama"  sank,  leaving 
the  "Kearsarge"  scarcely  injured. 

A  volume  might  be  filled  with  accounts  of  notable  exploits  of  the  navy 
which  there  is  not  room  even  to  mention  here.  Hut  one  more  must  be  named, 
so  daring  and  so  novel  was  it.  In  April,  1864,  the  grcvat  iron-clad  ram,  "Albe- 
marle," was  completed  by  the  Confederates  and  sent  forth  to  drive  the  National 
vessels  from  the  sounds  and  harbors  of  the  North  Carolina  coast.  She  came 
down  the  Roanoke  River  and  boldly  attacked  the  fleet,  destroying  one  ship  at 
the  first  onset  and  damaging  others,  while  showing  herself  almost  invulnerable. 
It  was  feared  that  she  would  actually  succeed  in  raising  the  blockade,  and 
extraorilinary  efforts  were  made  to  destroy  her,  but  without  avail. 

At  last  the  job  was  undertaken  by  a  y*)ung  officer.  Lieutenant  Cushing, 
who  had  alre:.dy  distinguished  himself  b}  his  daring.  I  le  took  a  small  steam 
launch,  manned  by  himself  and  fifteen  others,  armeil  witii  a  howitzer,  and 
carrying  a  large  torpedo.  The  "Albemarle"  was  at  her  dock  at  Plymouth, 
some  miles  up  the  river,  and  both  banks  of  the  narrow  stream  were  closely 
lined  with  pickets  and  batteries.  On  a  dark,  stormy  night  the  launch  steamed 
boldly  up  the  river  and  got  within  a  short  tlistance  of  the  "Albemarle"  before 
it  was  seen  by  the  pickets.  Instantly  the  alarm  was  givtm,  and  a  hail  of  bullets 
fell  upon  the  launch,  doing,  however,  little  harm.  Cushing  headed  straight  for 
the  huge  iron-clad,  shouting  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  in  bravado,  "Get  off  the 
ram!  We're  going  to  blow  you  up!"  Running  the  launch  up  till  its  bow 
touched  the  side  of  the  "Albemarle,"  he  thrust  the  torpi:do,  at  the  end  of  a 
pole,  under  the  latter  and  fired  it.     The  explosion  wrecked  the  "Albemarle" 


390  GIAXTS  OF  THE  NA  VY. 

and  sank  her.  The  launch  was  also  wrecked,  and  the  sixteen  men  took  to  the 
water  and  sou_L,dit  to  escape  by  swimming.  All  were,  how(;ver,  captured  by  the 
Confederates,  save  four.  Of  these,  two  were  drowned,  and  the  other  two — 
one  of  them  beinjj;-  Cushiny^  himself — reached  the  other  shore  and  got  safely 
back  to  the  lleet. 

We  have  said  that  in  the  spring  of  iS6i  there  were  only  42  vessels  in  com- 
mission in  the  navy.  There  were  also  27  serviceable  ships  not  in  commission, 
and  21  unser\iceable,  or  90  in  all.  During  the  four  years  of  the  war  there  were 
built  and  added  to  the  navy  125  unarmored  and  68  armored  vessels,  most  of  the 
latter  being  of  the  "  Monitor"  type.  A  few  figures  regarding  some  of  the  en- 
gagements will  give  a  \i\id  idea  of  the  manner  in  which  the  ships  fought.  In 
the  futile  attack  of  the  iron-clads  on  the  forts  in  Charlestcm  harbor,  April  7,  1S63, 
nine  vessels  took  part,  using  23  guns  and  firing  130  times,  at  from  500  to  2100 
yards  range.  They  hit  Fort  Wagner  twice,  I'ort  Moultrie  i  2  times,  and  Fort 
Sumter  55  times,  doing  little  damage.  Against  them  the  forts  used  "j"]  guns, 
firing  2229  times,  and  hitting  the  vessels  520  times,  but  doing  little  damage 
except  to  one  monitor,  which  was  sunk.  In  the  second  bombardment  of  Fort 
Fisher  21.716  projectiles,  solid  shot  and  shell,  were  thrown  by  the  lleet. 

ISut  the  most  im|)ortant  thing  achieved  was  the  entire  transformation  effected 
in  naval  science.  Hitherto  the  war-ship  had  been  simply  an  armed  merchant- 
ship,  propelled  by  sails  or,  latterly,  by  steam,  carrying  a  large  number  of  small 
guns.  American  inventiveness  made  it,  after  the  duel  of  the  "Monitor"  and 
'  Merrimac,"  a  floating  fortress  of  iron  or  steel,  carrying  a  few  enormously  heavy 
guns.  The  glory  of  the  old  lineof-battle  ship,  with  three  or  four  tiers  of  guns 
on  each  side  and  a  big  cloud  of  canvas  overhead,  firing  ratding  broadsides,  and 
manccuvring  to  get  and  hold  the  weather-gauge  of  the  enemy — all  that  was 
relegated  to  the  past  forever.  In  its  place  came  the  engine  of  war,  with  little 
pomp  and  circumstance,  but  with  all  the  resources  of  science  shut  within  its  ugly, 
black  iron  hull. 

John  Paul  Jones,  with  his  "  Bon  Homme  Richard."  struck  the  blow  that 
made  universal  the  law  of  neutrals'  rights.  Hull,  with  the  "  Constitution,"  send- 
ing a  P)ritish  frigate  to  the  bottom,  showed  what  ^'ankee  ingenuity  in  sighting 
guns  could  do.  Ericsson  and  Worden,  with  the  "Monitor,"  sent  wood(,'n  navies 
to  the  hulk-yard  and  ushered  in  the  era  of  iron  and  steel  fighting-engines. 
These  are  the  three  great  naval  events  of  a  century. 

One  of  the  most  thrilling  events  in  naval  history  occurred  in  a  time  of 
peace.  It  was  in  the  harbor  of  Apia,  Samoa,  in  March,  1889.  -^  great  storm 
struck  the  shipping  and  destroyed  nearly  every  vessel  there.  Three  German 
war-ships  were  wrecked.  One  English  war-ship,  by  herculean  efforts,  was 
saved.  Two  American  war-ships  were  wrecked,  and  one  was  saved  after  being 
run   on    the  beach.     This  was  the  "Nipsic."     The   wrecked  vessels  were  the 


THE  STORM  LV  APIA  HARBOR.  39' 

"Trenton"  and  the  "  \'antialia."     The  combined  strencfth  of  their  enp^ines  and 
anchors  was  not  enough  to  keep  them  from  heini;  driven  upon  the  fateful  reefs. 
The    "\'andaHa"    was   already   stranded   and    pouniliii,,^    to    pieces,    and    the 
"Trenton"  was  driftint^  down  upon  her.     "Suddenly,"  says  a  witness  of  the 
scene,   "the  Stars  and  Stripes  were  seen  flyini^'^  from  the  gaff  of  the  'Trenton.* 
Previous  to  this  no  vessel  in  the  harbor  had  raised  a  flag,  as  the  storm  was 
raging  so  furiously  at  sunrise  that  that  ceremony  was  neglected.     It  seemed  now 
as  if  the  gallant  ship  knew  she  was  doomed,  and  had  determined  to  go  down 
with  the  llag  of  her  country  ll(jating  above  the  storm.     Presently  the  last  faint 
ray  of  daylight  faded  away,  and  night  came  down  upon  the  awful  scene.     The 
storm  was  still  raging  with  as  much  fury  as  at  any  time  during  the  day.     The 
poor  creatures  who  had  been  clinging  for  hours  to  the  rigging  of  the  'X'andalia' 
were  bruised  and  bleeding,  but  the-y  held  on  with  the  desjjeration  of  men  who 
hang  by  a  thread  between  life  and  death.     The  ropes  had  cut  the  tlesh  of  their 
arms  and  legs,  and  their  ej-es  were  blinded  by  the  salt  spray  which  swept  over 
them.     Weak  and  exhausted  as  they  were,  they  would  be  unable  to  stand  the 
terrible  strain  much  longer.     They  looked  down  upon  the  angry  water  below 
them,  and  knew  that  they  had  no  strength  left  to  battle  with  the  waves.     Their 
final  hour  seemed  to  be  upon  them.     The  great  black  hull  of  the    '  Trenton  ' 
could   be  seen   through  the  darkness,  almost  ready  to  crush  into  the  stranded 
'  Vandalia  '  and  grind  her  to  atoms.     Suddenly  a  shout  was  borne  across  the 
waters.      The   'Trenton'  was  cheering  the  '  \'andalia.'      The  sound  of    450 
voices  broke  upon  the  air  and  was  heard  above  the  roar  of  the  tempest.    'Three 
cheers  for  the  "Vandalia  !  "  '  was  the  cry  that  warmed  the  hearts  of  the  dying 
men  in  the  rigging.    The  shout  died  away  upon  the  storm,  and  there  arose  from 
the  quivering  masts  of  the  sunken  ship  a  response  so  feeble  that  it  was  scarcely 
heard  on  shore.     The  men  who  felt  that  they  were  looking  death  in  the  tace 
aroused   themselves  to  the  effort  and  united  in  a  faint  cheer  to  the  flagship. 
Those  who  were   standing  on  shore  listened  in  silence,  for  that  feeble  cry  was 
the  saddest  they  had  ever  heard.     Every  heart  was  melted  to  pity.      '  God  help 
them  ! '  was  passed  from  one  man  to  another.     The  sound  of  music  next  came 
across  the  water.      The   '  Trenton's  '   band  was  playing  '  The  Star  Spangled 
Banner.'     The  thousand  men  on  sea  and  shore  had  never  before  heard  strains 
of  music  at  such  a  time  as  this."     And  so  the  good  ships  went  to  wreck,  and 
many  a  life  was  lost ;  but  a  standard  of  endurance  and  of  valor  was  there  set  up 
that  shall  command  the  reverence  and  \vonder  of  the  world  as  long  as  time  shall 
endure. 

During  fifteen  years  of  peace,  following  the  War  of  the  Rebellion,  the  navy 
was  much  neglected.  No  new  ships  were  built,  and  the  old  ones  fell  into  decay. 
In  iSSi,  however,  William  H.  Hunt,  Secretary  of  the  Navy  appointed  an 
Advisory  Board  to  plan  the  building  of  a  new  navy  adequate  to  the  needs  of  the 


TflE  NlilV  XAl'Y.  yjl 

nation.  From  the  deliberations  of  tliis  Board  and  its  successor,  appointed 
by  Secretary  Chanul(;r,  sprani^  the  siilcndid  new  licet.  'I'he  IJoard  recom- 
mended the  construction  cjf  four  steel  v(;ss(.'ls  :  the  "  Chica:j^o,"  of  4500  tons 
displacement;  the  "  lifjsloii  "  ami  "Atlanta,"  of  .^iSg  tons  tlisplacement  each, 
and  the  "Dolphin,"  of  14S5  tons  dis|jlacemfnt.  The  dates  of  the  acts  authoi  • 
izing  these  vessels  were  Aui^aist  5,  iSS:;,  and  March  3,  1SS3,  and  the  contracts 
were  taken  for  all  four  vessels  by  John  Roach  i\:  .Sons  in  Jul)-,  1SS3. 

The  pioneer  of  the  new  steel  navy  was  the  "Dolphin."  Althou'di  classeil 
as  a  "dispatch  '.joat  "  in  the  Xa\y  Re^^-ister,  she  has  well  carntHl  the  litle  of  a 
first-class  cruiser,  and  would  be  so  classed  if  she  had  the  tonnai^e  displacenii  nt, 
since  she  made  a  most  successful  cruise;  around  the  world,  traversin*^  52.000 
miles  of  sea  without  a  sing'le  mishaj).  The  "  Dolphin  "  was  launched  April  21, 
and  she  was  finished  in  November.  1SS4,  and  altlK)UL,di  no  material  changes 
were  made  in  her  she  was  kept  in  continuous  service  for  nearly  six  years. 
After  her  tri[)  around  Cape  Morn,  antl  after  ten  months  hard  cruisinj^,  she  was 
thoroughly  surveyed,  and  there  was  not  a  plate  dis])lacetl,  nor  a  rivet  loosened, 
nor  a  timber  strained,  nor  a  spai  ct  of  t^^ear.  At  the  end  of  her  cruise  around 
the  world  she  was  pronounced  "  the  stanchest  dispatch-boat  in  any  navy  of  the 
world." 

The  "Dolphin"  is  a  single-screw  vessel  of  the  following  dimensions: 
Length  over  all,  265^^  feet;  breadth  of  beam,  32  feet;  UK-an  draught,  14I4 
feet;  displacement,  14S5  tons.  Her  armament  consists  of  two  four-inch  rapid- 
firing  guns ;  two  six-pounder  rapic'-firing  guns ;  four  forty-seven-millimeter 
Hotchkiss  revolving  cannon,  and  two  Gatling  guns.  She  is  also  fittt'd  with 
torpedo  tubes.  Her  cost,  exclusive  of  her  guns,  was  $315,000.  Her  comple- 
ment of  crew  consists  of  10  officers  and  9S  enlisted  men. 

The  first  four  vessels  were  called  the  "A,  H,  C,  and  D  of  the  New  Navy," 
because  of  the  first  letters  of  their  names — the  "  Atlanta,"  "  Boston,"  "  Chicago," 
and  "Dolphin."  The  "Atlanta"  and  "ISoston"  are  sister  ships — that  is,  they 
were  built  from  the  same  designs  and  their  plates,  etc.,  were  moulded  from  the 
same  patterns  and  they  carry  the  same  armament — hence  a  description  ot  one 
is  a  description  of  the  other.  They  followed  tiie  "Dolphin"  in  service,  the 
"  Adanta"  being  launched  on  October  c),  1SS4,  and  the  "  Boston  "  on  December 
4,  1SS4.  The  "Adanta"  cost  $619,000  and  the  "Boston"  $617,000.  The 
official  description  of  these  vessels  is  that  they  "are  central  superstructure 
single-deck,  steel  cruisers,"  Their  tliniensions  are  :  Length  over  all,  2S3  ieet  ; 
breadth  of  beam,  42  feet;  mean  draiiglit,  17  feet;  displacement,  31S9  tons; 
sail  area,  10,400  square  feet.  The  armament  of  each  consists  of  two  eight  inch 
and  six  six-inch  breed,  loading  ritles  ;  two  six-pounder,  two  two-pounder,  and  two 
one-pounder  rapid-firiag  guns  ;  two  47-millimeter  and  two  37-millimeter  Hotch- 
kiss revolving  cannon,  two  Gatling  guns,  and  a  set  of  lurpedo-firing  tubes. 


394  GIAX-^S  OF  THE  NA]T. 

Larc^er  and  finer  still  is  the  "  Chicacco,"  the  Haf^^ship  of  the  fleet,  which  was 
launched  on  December  5,  1S.S5.  She  waS  the  first  vessel  of  the  navy  to  have 
heavy  ,i,''uns  mounted  in  half  turrets,  her  four  ei(,dit-inch  cannon  being-  carried  on 
the  spar-deck  in  half  turrets  built  out  from  the  ship's  side,  the  guns  beini^ 
twenty-four  a. id  a-half  feet  above  the  water  and  together  commanding  the  entire 
horizon.  There  are  six  six-inch  guns  in  the  broadside  ports  of  the  gun-deck 
and  a  six-inch  gun  on  each  bow.  There  are  also  two  five-inch  guns  aft  in  the 
after  portion  of  the  cabin.  Her  secondary  battery  is  two  Catlings,  two  six- 
pounders,  two  one-pounders,  two  47-millimeter  revolving  cannon,  and  two 
37-millimeter  revolving  cannon. 

This  auspicious  start  being  made,  the  work  of  building  the  new  navy  went 
steadily  on.  Next  came  the  protected  cruisers  "Baltimore,"  "Charleston," 
"Newark,"  "San  Francisco,"  and  "Philadelphia,"  big  steel  ships,  costing  from 
a  million  to  nearly  a  million  and  a  half  dollars  each.  Much  smaller  cruisers,  or 
gunboats,  were  the  "  Yorktown,"  "Concord,"  and  "Bennington,"  and,  smallest 
of  all,  the  "  Petrel."  All  these  ships,  though  varying  in  size,  are  of  the  same 
general  type.  They  are  not  heavily  armored,  and  are  not  regarded  as  regular 
battle-ships,  yet  could  doubtless  give  a  good  account  of  themselves  in  any 
conllict.  They  are  chiefly  intended,  however,  as  auxiliaries  to  the  real  fighters, 
and  as  cruisers,  commerce  destroyers,  etc. 

The  "  X'esuvius,"  launched  in  April,  iSSS,  is  a  "  dynajiiite  cruiser,"  a 
small,  swift  vessel,  carrying  three  huge  guns,  each  of  fifteen  inches  bore,  pointing 
directly  forward  and  upward.  From  these,  charges  of  dynamite  are  to  be  fired 
by  compressed  air.  The  "  dishing  "  is  a  swift  torpedo  boat,  with  three  tubes 
for  discharging  the  deadly  missiles.  It  was  launched  in  1S90,  and  named  after 
the  intrepid  destroyer  of  the  "Albemarle,"  whose  feat  has  already  been 
described.  The  "Stiletto"  is  a  ver\-  small,  wooden  torpedo  boat,  of  very- 
great  speed. 

The  new  navy  also  contains  a  number  of  vessels  intended  for  coast-defense, 
heavily  armored  for  hard  fighting.  The  "Monterey"  is  a  vessel  of  the 
"Monitor"  type  invented  by  Ericsson.  It  has  two  turrets,  or  barbettes,  each 
carrying  two  twelve-inch  guns,  and  protected  by  from  eleven  to  thirteen  inches 
of  armor.  The  bow  is  provided  with  a  ram.  The  "  Puritan  "  is  a  vessel  of 
similar  design,  with  fourteen  inches  of  armor.  Besides  the  four  big  guns  there 
is  a  secondary  battery  of  twelve  rapid-firing  guns,  four  Hotchkiss  revolving 
cannon,  and  four  Gading  guns.  The  "  Miantonomah "  is  another  double- 
turreted  monitor.  Her  four  ten-inch  rides  have  an  effective  range  of  thirteen 
miles,  and  she  has  a  powerful  secondary'  battery.  Her  big  guns  can  send  a  five 
hundred-pound  bolt  of  metal  through  twenty  inches  of  armor,  and  she  is  herself 
heavily  armored.     This  is  a  singularly  powerful  battle-ship,  and  would  probably 


GREAT  ARMORl-D  WAR  SHIPS. 


395 


prove  a  match  for  any  war-shi[)  in  th<;  workl.     Several  similar  vessels  are  now 
under  construction. 

The  "  Maine  "  is  a  heavily-armored  cruiser,  and  while  intended  for  sea- 
going, is  really  a  battle-shi[).  It  has  eleven  inches  of  armor  and  carries  four 
ten-inch  rilles,  besides  numerous  smalhn"  L,ains.  The  "Texas"  is  a  similar  ship. 
The  "Detroit,"  "Montgomery,"  and  "  Marblehead,"  not  yet  com|)leted,  are 
small,  partially  armoretl  cruisers.  The  "New  York"  is  a  mighty  armored 
cruiser,  believed  to  surpass  any  other  shii)  ever  built  in  the  combination  of  offen- 


"CHICACd,"    U.    S   N.,   ONE   0¥  TlIK   NKW   "WHITE   SQUADRON"    WAR   SHIPS. 


sive  and  defensive  power,  coal  endurance,  and  speed.  She  is  380  feet  6)4  inches 
long;  steams  20  knots  per  hour;  can  go  13,000  miles  without  coaling;  has 
from  si.x  to  eight  inches  of  armor,  and  carries  si.K  eight-inch  and  twelve  four-inch 
rifles,  and  numerous  smaller  guns. 

The  "Raleigh  "  and  "  Cincinnati  "  are  protected  cruisers  of  medium  size. 
There  are  several  other  cruisers,  not  yet  named,  especially  designed  as  com- 
merce-destroyers, having  great  speed,  and  being  made  to  look  as  much  like 
merchant-ships  as  possible.  Other  gunboats  and  battle-ships  are  also  being 
built ;  one  practice  cruiser,   intended  for  a  school-ship,  and  a  harbor-defense 


3'/j  GIANTS  OF  THE  NA  VY. 

ram,  carryincf  no  ^c^uns.  but  provided  with  a  particularly  ugly  beak  at  the  bow. 
Alt()L,fcthLT,  tile  new  navy,  built  or  building--,  down  to  the  present  date  comprisea 
thirteen  aruKjred  battle-ships,  seventt-cn  unarmored  but  "  protected  "  cruisers, 
and  six  gunboats,  all  of  them  fully  ecpial  to  any  ships  of  their  class  in  the 
world. 

In  scarc-ly  any  department  of  human  industry  arc  the  changes  produced 
by  the  progress  (jf  civilization  more  strikingly  seen  than  in  the  navy.  When 
America  was  tliscovered,  the  galleon  and  the  caravel  were  the  standard  war- 
ships of  the  world — clumsy  wooden  tubs,  towering  high  in  air,  propelled  by 
sails  antl  even  oars,  with  a  large  number  of  small  cannons,  and  men  armed 
with  muskf.'ts  and  cross-bows.  .Such  was  the  fltmed  Armada,  "that  crreat  fleet 
invincible,"  that  was  vantpiished  l^y  the  smaller,  lighter  crafts  of  Dritain.  Four 
hundred  years  have  passed,  and  what  is  the  war-ship  of  to-day?  A  low-lying 
hulk  of  iron  and  steel  ;  armed  with  a  few  big  guns,  one  of  which  throws  a 
heavier  shot  than  a  galleon's  whole  broadside ;  driven  resistlessly  through  tlie 
water  by  mighty  steam  engines ;  lighted  and  steered  by  electric  apparatus,  and 
using  an  electric  search-light  that  makes  midnight  as  bright  as  day.  All  the 
triumphs  of  science  and  mechanic  arts  have  contributed  to  the  perfection  of 
these  dreadful  sea  monsters,  a  single  one  of  which  could  have  destroyed  the 
whole  Armada  in  an  hour,  and  laughed  to  scorn  the  might  of  Nelson  inTrafalgar 
Bay.  What  the  locomotive  is  to  the  stage-coach,  that  is  the  *'  Miantonomah  " 
or  the  "  New  York  "  to  the  "  San  Philip  "  or  the  "  Revenge." 


OLIVER  H.  PERRY, 


THH;    H15RO    OR    THli    IBATTI^K    OF    LAKH:    RRIE. 


M(")XG   the   "Giants  of  the  American   Xavy  "  there  are  few 

nion,'  remarkable  than  the  commandt-r-who  fought  the  sin- 

]1      j^iihir  but  glorious  batthi  of  I,ake  Jirie,  in  September,  1813, 

Oliver   Hazard    Perry  was  a   Rhode   Island  boy,  born  in 

17S5.      His  mother,  Sarah  Alexander,  was  nott'd  for  her 

kCO^    strength  of  character  and  intellect,  and  her  chiUlren  were 


i^y      trained  with  rare  ability.     She  taught  him  how  and  what 

to  reatl,  toUl  iiim  stories  of  the  deeds  of  her  military  ances- 

'^Z*      tors,  and  "fitted  him  to  commaml  others  by  tc-aching  him  early 

to  obey."     After  the  battle  on  Lake  luMe,  when  the  countr)'  was 

riiiuiii""  with  Perry's  i)raises,  some  Rhode  Island  farmers,  who  knew 

his  mother  well,  insisted  that  it  was  "  Mrs.  Perry's  victory." 

Perry  entered  the  navy  as  a  midshipman  when  only  fourteen. 
He  gave  the  details  of  his  profession  the  most  thorough  study,  and  l.)y  incessant 
training  of  his  crtnvs,  and  practicing  his  ships  in  the  various  evolutions,  he 
brought  thcin  up  to  a  wonderful  ilegree  of  etficiency.  In  tlie  yt'ars  preceding 
thi!  War  of  iSi:  hi-  was  in  commantl  of  the  Newport  tlotllla  of  gunboats  ;  and 
he  practiced  sham  tights  b\'  dividing  his  tl(;t;t  into  t\vo  squadrons,  mameuvering 
them  as  if  in  battle,  and  thus  ac<|uired  the  ability  to  take  advantage  of  critical 
moments  and  situations. 

When  war  against  luigland  was  at  last  declared,  Perry  applied  repeat(xlly 
for  a  sea  commaml,  but,  being  disappointed,  tinally  ottered  his  services  to  Com- 
modore Chauncev,  on  the  lakes.  There  he  had  to  begin  by  Ijuilding  his  ships. 
The  shores  of  Lake  Erie  were  a  wilderness.  The  S(]uadron  was  to  be  built 
from  the  trees  standing  in  the  forest.  Traveling  to  Lake  Erie  in  sleighs,  he 
met  there  a  party  of  ship  carpenters  from  Philadelphia,  and  after  months  of  the 
most  incessant  toil,  they  constructed  the  little  tleet  of  nine  vessels  with  which 
Perry  was  to  meet  the  enemy.  He  had  to  create  not  only  his  ships  but  the 
force  to  man  them.  While  the  vessels  were  being  built  he  was  drilling  his  men, 
a  collection  of  some  five  hundred,  many  of  whom  had  never  seen  salt  water. 


jy/ 


398  OLIVER  11.  PERRY. 

Five  months  of  his  excellent  irainin^^  converted  them  into  thoroughly  drilled 
artilK-rists. 

While  Terry  was  buildinLj  his  ships,  the  En_L,dish  commander,  Commodore 
Barclay,  was  likewise  buildin:^'  the  tlcet  which  was  to  i-ncoimter  them.  I5y 
Aui^nist  both  were  reaily,  and  after  some  man(L'iiverin>,f  they  met  in  battle  on 
September  lotli,  near  the  western  end  of  the  lake.  The  fi-^ht  was  hardly 
be<4iin  when  I'erry's  ship,  the  Laxy.<rciu\\  became  separateil  from  the  rest,  and 
was  so  furiously  attacketl  by  Barclay's  llaj^^-ship,  the  Dclroit,  that  in  a  short  time 
slu;  was  in  a  sinkinL;  condition.  LeaviuL;'  her  in  chari^-e  of  a  lieutenant,  I'erry 
embarked  in  a  small  boat,  anil  passinL,--  under  his  enemy's  <,ams,  boarded  the 
Niagara,  where  he  hoisted  his  lla;;-,  ami  renewed  the  attack  with  such  vijj^or 
that  by  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  every  one  of  the  Uritish  vessels  had 
surrendered. 

l\rw  na\al  victories  in  history  are  more  notable  than  that  of  Lake  I'>ie,  won 
by  the  i^enius  and  heroism  of  a  \'ovniL;'  man  of  only  twenty-seven.  The  letter 
which  he  sent  to  Cieneral  Harrison,  commander  of  the  army,  from  the  deck  of 
his  triumphant  ship,  has  become  immortal : — 

We  have  met  the  enemy,  and  tliey  are  ours, — two  shii)S,  two  brigs,  one  schooner,  and  one 
sloop.  Yours  with  verv  great  respect  and  esteem, 

O.   H.   rKKRV. 

Perry  won  o-reat  honors  by  his  victory,  Con<4ress  voting;-  him  thanks,  a 
medal,  and  the  rank  of  captain.  He  afterwartl  took  an  important  part  in 
militar)'  operations  at  Detroit,  in  the  battle  of  the  Thames,  Canada,  and  in 
defense  of  Ualtimore.  While  in  commantl  of  a  squadron  in  the  West  bidies, 
he  was  attacked  by  yellow  fever,  and  died  suddenly  at  Trinidad,  in  August,  1S19. 


400 


tl',11  1    INi  II    i.I  N     \Ml    lAKIil  \'.l.    Ill'-     1  m.    ••  l:M   1  l.M'iRE.' 


DAVID  G.  FARRAGUT, 

THE    GRKAT     UNION     NA.VA.L    COMMAMDER. 


(  )X1-  of  the  naval  heroes  of  the  ^reat  civil  war  is  better 
reni(Mnl)('rt;d  than  Daviel  (i.  Farra_Ljut.  The  figure  of 
the  bra\<'  adniiral,  in  th(^  ti,!-,dit  in  Mobile  Hay,  stand- 
iuL;  in  the  riujuinij;'  of  the  Ilartjoni,  with  his  ylass  in 
*i*^"  '■  his  hciiul,  directinL;-  the  movements  of  the  fleet,  is  one 
of  the  most  familiar  pictures  of  the  war;  and  no 
bra\  er  man  or  jjetter  sailor  than  l-'arragut  ever  took 
the  deck  of  a  vessel, 
t     £4^,^   w'^'^»i.i^:.-'  'I'll,,  n-^val  caret>r  of  Farracjut  beiji'an  in  the  War 

*;■  i^lk.:  ■\iz.^*  ,,f  i.Sij,  wlieii  h(2  was  a  boy  only  eleven  years  old.  He 
was  in  that  famous  battle  in  the  harbor  of  Valparaiso 
between  the  Essex  ami  the  British  war-vessels  Pliebc  and 
Cherub,  when  the  two  IJritish  vessels  attacked  the  Essex  while  disabled  by  a 
sudden  scpiall,  and  after  she-  IkuI  taken  refuL;i,-  in  neutral  waters.  The  Essex, 
her  sails  blown  awav  and  crippled  Ijy  the  storm,  was  unable  to  chany^e  her 
position,  and  lay  helpless  at  the  merc\-  of  her  enemies'  _L;uns.  After  a  bloody 
battle  of  two  hours  and  a  half  under  such  fearful  odds,  the  Hag'  was  lowered. 
In  such  desperate  battles  as  this,  which  gave  to  the  American  navy  lasting 
renown,  the  naval  career  of  Farragut  began. 

In  January,  iS{32,  the  government  fitted  out  an  expedition  for  the  capture 
of  New  Orleans,  and  put  it  under  b'arragut's  command.  His  fleet  comprised 
forty  '/ight  vessels,  large  and  small,  and  all  of  wood,  as  the  iron-clad  vessels  of 
later  date  were  not  yet  developed.      The  river  was  defended  by  Forts  Jackson 

24  40I 


402  DJVID  G.  FARRAGUT. 

and  St.  Philip,  lyin^-  on  opposite  sides  of  the  Mississippi,  about  seventy  miles 
below  the  city  ;  and  man\-  gunboats  and  rams  lay  near  the  forts. 

Ilcfore  attempting,''  to  pass  the  forts,  I'arra^ut  determined  to  l)ombard  them 
from  his  licet  ;  and  careful  preparations  were  made  on  all  the  vessels.  It  was 
a  strand  spix'laclc  wIkmi,  on  the  lolh  of  March,  this  formiilaljU;  lleet  at  last 
opened  \\xv..  i  he  low  banks  of  ih(M'iver  on  both  siiles  seemed  lined  with,  flame. 
All  day  lon^-  the  earth  trembled  undin'  the  heavy  c;.\plosi(jns,  and  b\'  ni-lit  two 
thousand  shells  had  been  hurlc;d  aL^'.airist  the  forts. 

'l"h(;  relx-ls  had  nwt  been  idle  during;'  the  eUilays  of  the  previous  weeks,  but 
had  contrived  and  constructc-d  every  possible  instrument  of  destruclioii  and 
defens(!.  (  )n  the  lii'st  mornin-'  of  th(;  IxMnbanlinent  they  set  adrift  a  firc^-ship 
made  of  a  hiiL;e  tlalboat  piled  with  liu^hted  pitcli-pine  cordwood.  The  blazin*^ 
mass,  howi:ver.  kept  in  the  middle  of  the  stream,  and  so  passed  the  (led  with- 
out intlictini;-  any  damat;-e.  At  ni^ht  anothc^r  was  sent  adrift.  .Small  boats  were 
sent  to  meet  it,  and,  in  spite  of  tht.'  intense  heat,  ^rapidinL^-  irons  were  fastened 
in  it,  and  the;  mass  was  towed  to  the  shore  and  left  to  burn  liarmU'ssly  away. 

fbuiuL;-  at  last  made  all  the  preparations  that  he  could  with  the  means 
allowed  him,  and  the  mortar-b(jats  ha\inL;-  accomplished  all  that  was  in  their 
power  to  do  for  the;  present,  the  26th  day  of  April  was  fixed  for  the  passaL;-e  of 
the  forts.  The  chain  across  the  channel  had  been  cut  a  ft;w  nii^hts  before.  It 
was  determined  to  start  at  two  o'clock  in  the  morning;,  anil  the  eveniny  before 
Farragut  visited  his  ships  for  a  last  inter\iew  with  the  commanders. 

Tin-     I'A'-AC.I-:    1  IF    THE    FORTS. 

At  length,  at  two  o'clock,  two  lanti'rns  were  seen  to  rise  slowly  to  the  mizzen 
peak  of  th(.'  //ar/foriL  Ihi:  boatswain's  shrill  call  rnw^  over  tin,'  water,  and  the 
drums  beat  to  ipiartiTS.  The  enemv  was  on  the  lookout,  and  the  vessels  had 
scarcttlv  i^nt  under  wa\"  when  siy-nal-liL;hts  tlasheil  a'nr.^'  the  batteries.  Then  a 
l)(;lt  of  lire;  gleamed  through  the  darkness,  and  the  next  moment  the  hea\y  shot 
came  shriekinsj^  over  the  bosom  of  the  stream.  All  <;yes  were  now  turned  on 
the  I farlford.  as  she  silently  steamed  on, — the  sii^nal  "close  action"  blazing- 
from  her  ri'^i^iiiL;'.  In  the  meantime  th(;  mortar-boats  below  opened  fire,  and 
the  hissiuL;'  shells,  rising-  in  L;racefnl  curses  o\-er  the  advancin;^-  lleet,  dropix-tl 
with  a  thunderous  sound  into  the  forts  above.  In  a  few  minutes  the  advancetl 
vesst'ls  openeil.  firing;'  at  the-  llash''s  from  the  forts.  The  ih.'et,  with  full  steam 
on,  was  soon  abreast  of  the  forts,  and  its  rapiil  broadsides,  min!_;linL;'  with  the 
deafeninL,^  explosions  on  shore,  turned  niL^ht  into  fiery  day. 

While  the;  bombardment  was  in  proL,n"ess.  a  fire-raft,  pushed  by  th<'  ram 
Jlfii/iussds,  loomed  thnjui;!!  the  smoke,  and  bore  straight  down  on  the  Hartford. 
Farra;^ut  sheered  oil  to  avoitl  the  collision,  ;uh1  in  doiii:;'  so  ran  a^rouml.  when 
the  fire-ship  came  full  a^i^ainst  him.     In  a  moment  the  flames  leaped  up  the  rig- 


THE  ATTACK  OX  THE  FORTS. 


403 


(rino^  aiul  aloni,f  the  siilcs.  There  was  no  [jaiiic  ;  'wv\-\  man  was  in  his  place, 
ami  soon  the  hose  wa-^  manned  and  a  stream  ot  water  turned  on  the  llames. 
The  fire  was  at  knL^lh  ;;ot  under,  and  l'"arra;^ut  a;^ciin  mo\cd  lorward  at  the 
head  ^^i  his  cnhimn 

And  now  came  dnwn  llif  rebel  lleet  of  thirteen  i^umlinats  and  two  iron  clad 
rams  to  mingle  in  tlv;  comijat.  llroatlside  to  Ijroadside,  hull  crashing'  a-ain.^t 
hull,  it  ([uickly  became  at  once  a  gladiatorial  combat  ot  ships.  1  iie  /  an:;.,!. 
Ca|)tain  I'o'^-'^s,  sent  t'i\'e  of  liie  Confederate  \esseU  to  the  buttom  one  alter 
another,  anil  finally  wa^  her.->eif  bunk.     When  the  sun  ro.-.e  throu-lt  the  moriiin^^ 


l;  Mil  V  -    HAM    I'N    THK    Kill    KIVI  K. 


mist,  he  lookeil  down  on  a  sc<'n<'  never  to  be  f  )r^otten  while  na\'al  deeds  are 
honored  by  the  nation,  '['here  l.iy  the  forts,  with  tlie  Confeder.ite  tla^^s  still  tly- 
in^".  liut  their  doom  was  sealed.  .And  there,  too,  driven  ashore,  wrecked.  "V 
captured,  were  thirteen  of  tlie  enemy's  eimboats,  out  of  the  se\enteen  brou:^i.; 
down  to  assist  the  forts  in  resistint;-  the  L'nion  lleet. 

Xew  Orleans  was  now  at  I'arra^iit's  mercy.  Lo\-ell,  commandinL^-  the 
Confederate  troops  in  the  city,  (;\'icuateil  tin:  place  and  let't  it  uncier  the  control 
of  the  mavor,  .Monroe.  Farraiait  took  possession  of  the  citv,  ami  raised  the 
national    llag-    on    the   City   1  [all,    Mint,   and   Custom    1  louse,  which  were   the 


404 


DAVID  G.  FARRACUT. 


oroperty  of  the  United  States.      I  le   tlu;ii   turned   it  over   to   General    I-)Utler 
and  proceeded  witli  his  lleet  up  the  river. 

THE     llAri'l.l';     IN    MOlUI.l:;    ISAV. 

In  January,  1S64,  Farrayut  sailed  for  Mobile  15ay.  Mori^an  and  Gaines 
were  the'  chief  forts  jiarriny  it.  I'ort  Mori^'an  mounte-d  some  thirty  ,^uns,  and 
lort  Gaines  twenty-one.  There  were;  three  steamers  and  fjur  rams  inside, 
waitint,''  to  receive  any  vessels  that  mii^ht  succeed  in  passing;'  the  torts.  Batteries 
lined  the  shore,  and  tor])edoes  paved  the  bed  of  the  channel.  ( )n  the  1st  of 
March,  also,  before  his  preparations   for   the   attack  wc-re  com|)lete,  he  saw  the 

Confederat(.'  iron-clatl  ram  7\-niu'isfC 
steam  up  the  channel  and  anchor 
near  the  forts. 

This  comi)licated  the  situation 
very  much.  riie  contest  bet\v(;en 
wooden  vessels  on  one  side,  and  an 
iron-clad  and  stroma  forts  on  the 
other,  was  so  une(]ual  that  it  was 
almost  foolhardy  to  enter  it.  After 
weeks  of  waiting-,  howexer,  the 
Union  iron  chul  TciHunch  at  last 
arri\ed,  and  on  August  5,  i>S64, 
I'arraui'ut  proceeded  to  attack  the 
forts. 

The  vessels  were  arranged  two 
by  two,  and  lashed  stronL;ly  to- 
gether. The  tleet,  with  th(;  Brook- 
Ivn  ahead,  steamed  slowly  on,  and  at  a  cpiarter  to  seven  the  'J\-iUiiisch 
fired  the  first  gun.  Twenty  minutes  later  tlie  f(jrts  optined  fire,  when  the 
Brook! vn  replied  with  two  lOO-pounder  Parrott  ritles,  and  the  battle  fairly 
commenced. 

I'arragut  had  lashed  himself  near  the  maintop  of  die  Hartford,  so  as  to  be 
able  to  overlook  the  whole  scene.  While  watching  with  absorbing  anxiety  the 
progress  of  the  lleet  through  the  trenuMulous  fire  now  concentrated  upon  it,  sud- 
lenly,  to  his  utter  amazement,  he  saw  the  Ih-ooklyii  stop  and  l)egin  to  back, 
i'he  order  to  reverse  engines  passed  down  through  the  whole  llei't,  bringing  it 
to  a  sudden  halt  just  as  it  was  entering  the  fiery  vorte.x.  'What  does  this 
mean  ?  "  had  hardly  passed  the  lips  of  Farragut,  when  he  heard  the  cry,  "Tor- 
pedoes !  The  Tccitnisch  is  going  down  !  "  Glancing  toward  the-  spot  where  she 
lav,  he  saw  only  the  top  of  her  turrets,  which  were  rapiilly  siid<ing  beneath  the 
water.     RiLdit  ahead  were  the  buoys  which  had  turned  the  Brooklyn  back,  indi 


APMIKAI-    HAVII)    ]).    I'oKHK. 


THE  FIGHT  IX  MHHI.ll  TAV.  405 

catint,f  where  torpedoes  were  supposed  to  be  sunk,  re'iidy  to  lift  his  ship  into  the 
air  as  the\-  had  tiie   I\ciiiiiscli. 

lUit  now   l-.u-raL;ut's  sailor  blood   was  up.       "D the   torpedoes!"   he 

shouted  ;  '•  !.;-o  <ihead  I  "  I'ointiu'^-  between  th(j  ihreateniiiL;-  Imoys,  the  order  was 
L^iven  to  nio\e  on,  <ind  with  the  t'oain  dashin;^'  Ironi  the  bo\v>  ot  his  vessel,  he 
swept  forward,  "  determined,"  he  said,  "to  lake  the  chances,"  Wheeling'  to 
the  northwest  as  he  ke[)t  the  channel,  he  brought  his  whole  broadside  t()  bear 
on  the  t\)rt,  with  tremendous  ettect, 

Tht;  other  \-essels  foilowiiiL;-  in  the  wake  of  the  t];iL;-ship  one  after  anotlier 
swept  past  tht^  batteries,  tile  crews  loudly  chccriuL;',  anil  were  siL^naled  by  lar- 
ra'jut  to  come  to  .uichor.  Hut  the  otficers  had  scarcely  commenced  clearin^^ 
decks,  when  the  'rciuusscc  was  sec-n  boldly  standing;"  out;  into  the  ba\',  and  steer- 
ing straight  for  the  fleet,  with  the  purpose  of  attacking  it. 

KAMMIXO    AX    IRo\([AI»    RAM. 

It  was  a  thrilling  moment.  Tlna'c;  was  a  deet  of  frail  wooden  vessels,  at- 
tacked bv  .1  ram  clad  in  arnmr  imper\-ious  to  th(jir  guns.  The  moment  b'arra- 
o'ut  disci)\cred  it,  he  signaled  the  vessels  to  run  her  down,  antl,  hoisiino-  his  own 
anchor,  ordered  the  [jilot  to  drive  the  Har/fon/  full  on  tlu;  iron-clad,  'llie 
Million i^a/u/a.  under  the  command  of  the  inlre])id  .Strong,  being  near  tin;  rear 
of  the  line,  was  still  mo\ing  up  the  bay  wheii  he  saw  the  ram  heading  for  the 
liiK.-.  He  instantl)'  sheered  otit,  and,  ortlering  on  a  lull  head  of  ste'am,  dro\'e  his 
vessel  with  tremendous  torct:  straight  on  the  iron-clad  structure.  W  lu;eling,  he 
again  struck  her,  thotigh  he  had  carried  away  his  own  iron  j)row  and  cutwater. 
The  Lackai^'auiia  came  next,  and,  striking  the  ram  while  imder  ftill  headway, 
rolled  her  over  on  Ik  r  side.  The  next  moment,  down  came  Farragut  in  the 
ITiiii/ord.  but  jtist  behjre  the  \essel  struck,  the  ram  sheered,  so  that  the  blow 
was  a  glancing  one,  anel  the  former  rasped  along  her  iron-plated  htill  ami  fell 
alongside.  Recoiling  for  some  ten  or  twelve  feet,  the  J  [art  ford  poured  in  at 
that  short  distanc(;  a  whole  broadside  of  nine-inch  solid  shot,  hinded  with  charges 
of  thirteen  pouiuls  of  powtler.  Ihe  heavy  metal,  though  sent  with  such  awful 
force;,  and  in  suth  close  [iroximity,  math;  no  im])ression,  butbrokeinto  fragments 
on  the  mailed  sides  or  dnippcd  liack  into  the  w.tt(.'r.  Ihe  shot  and  shell  from 
the  rcnncssci.  on  the  otli^r  hand,  went  crashing  through  the  wooden  sides  of 
th(i  I  [art ford,  strewing  her  deck  with  the  dead. 

I'arragtit  now  stood  ott,  ami  began  to  make  a  circuit  in  order  to  come  down 
again,  wht;n  lii<:  Tackawanna.  which  was  dri\ing  the  second  time  on  the  mon- 
ster, hyaccident  struck  the  J/orfford  7\  litth;  forward  of  the  mi//en-mast,  and  cut 
her  down  to  within  two  fe('t  of  the  water.  She  was  at  tuvst  thought  to  Ik;  sink- 
ing, and  "The  .Admiral!  the  Admiral!  Save  the  Admiral!"  rang  o\(;r  the 
=5hatteretl  th'ck.      litit  I'arragut,  seeing  that  the  vessel  would  still  lloat,  shouted 


4o6 


DA  I 'ID  G.  FARRAGLT. 


out  to  put  on  steam,  (.l(.'t('nniii(j(l  to  st-nd  her,  crushed  and  broken  as  sl:e  was, 
full  on  tlie  ram. 

Hy  this  time  the  monitors  had  crawled  up  aiul  wen:  pourin;^-  in  their  h('avy 
shot.  1  he  C'///(Ai/.V(?.\' u;<»t  under  the  stern  and  knocke-d  awav  the  smokestack, 
while  the  Maiiliattan  seMit  one  shot  clean  throuj^h  thi;  \  (.'ssel.  and  disabled  her 
stern  port  shutter  with  a  shell,  so  that  the  i^un  could  not  lie  used,  while  a  third 
carried  away  the  steerin:^- u;ear.  'I'hus,  with  her  steeriiiL^-chains  L;one.  her  smoke- 
stack shot  awa\,-,  many  oi  iu-r  port  shutters  jammixl,  the'  Jciintsscc  stood  amid 
the  crowdinL;'  L;unboats  like  a  sta^;-  atba\-amonL^  the  hounds.  The  (  )ssipee  was 
driving-  toward  her  under  Kill  headway  ;  and  a  little  farther  off  bearin;^-  down  on 
the  sanu:  I'rrand,  were  comiii:,;-  the   //(//'//<■;-(/.    Jh>i!0!:^,i/iLlti.   and    Loi ka7cainia. 


I'M-.    Ill      I  HI. 


••  .Mi.\N  iM.NoM.Mi'.i  "   ion;    ri.N-iNi.ii   i;i.i.i;rii.i.u.\:'iNi.  kiii.ks. 

id  was  sealed,  and  her  commander  hoist('d  th 


i^-^;.-^ 


The  fate  of  the  iron-clad  was  sealed,  and  her  commander  hoist('d  th(^  white  llaLT, 
but  not  until  the  Ossif^rc  was  so  near  that  her  commander  could  not  pre\ent  a 
collision,  and  his  \-essel  riisped  heavih'  alon^•  the  iron  sides  of  tlv  ram.  lie  r»i- 
ceived  her  surrender  froni  Comniand(;r  [ohnson — the  admiral.  ISuchanan.  haviiiL]^ 
been  previouslv  wounded  in  the  le^;'.  This  ended  the  morning's  work,  and  at 
ten  minutes  past  ten  b'arra^ut  brought  his  licet  to  anchor  within  four  miles  of 
bort  MoriL^an. 

The  loss  of  the  I'nion  iron-clad  Tt-ciinixcli.  with  her  commander  and  crew, 
tempereil  th(^  exultation  o\-er  this  splendid  victory.  A  torpedo  was  exploded 
directly  under  the  vessel,  almost  liftiiii^'-  her  out  of  the  water,  and  blowing-  a  hole 
in  her  bottom  so  large  that  she  sank  before  her  crew  could  reach  the  deck. 
Farragut's  impetuous  bravery,  however,  and  the  picturesc]ue  novelty  of  wooden 


JUS  WELCOME  LX  NEW  YORK. 


407 


vessels  ramminq-  an  iron-clad,  made  this  one  of  the  most  famous  naval  battles 
of  the  war.  and  i^ave  to  the  brave  admiral  a  wide  and  lasting  rt-nown.  Ofhcers 
and  men,  too,  seemed  to  catch  the  spirit  of  the  commaiuler,  and  fought  with  the 
most  splendid  bravery.  Several  of  tlu;  woundi;d  refused  to  leave  the  deck, 
but  continued  to  liL^ht  their  t;uns  ;  odiers  rehired  and  liail  tlieir  wounds  dressed, 
antl  thi-;n  returned  to  their  posts. 

A  few  days  later,  after  a  severe  bombarelment  from  the  Union  lleet.  both 


ii^ 


Ik    ' ■    !•'''■■      *••-'"■      'j'-  U-">  "•' i  ' 


1^ 


MoM-MKNT   Ti>    AI.MIKAl.    KAlvUAl.L' T,    Al     NS  A..II  I  MHON. 

the   Confederate  forts   were  stirrendered.     This  completed  th<;  Union  victory, 
and  put  th(;  liarbor  and  city  of  Mobile  a-ain  under  the  control  of  the  -ovtTn 
ment.     .Soon   after   this,   his  healtli  ilemandin^;   some  relaxation,   I'arra.L^ut  ol> 
taine.l    leave  of  abscMice,   and    sailed   for   New  York    in    liis   iLi-shi]),    tlie   now 
famous  //art ford.     At  Xew  York  he  was  welcometl  with  impressive  ceremonie.s, 
and   n.'ceived  the  hii^-hest  testimonials   of  appreciation    of  his  services   to  the 
nation,   a  number  of  wealthy  men  of  New  York  presenting;  a  ,<j;ift  of  $50,000  as 
a  token  of  their  esteem.     The  rank  of  vice-admiral   was  created  for  him  by 


4oS 


DAVID  G.  FAKRAGL'T. 


ConL,n"ess.     His  services  were  not  a^ain  recjuired  during;  the  war,  and  hi;  returned 
to  his  home  at  Hastings,  on  the  Iludscjii. 

Farrayul  liad  just  the  ([uaHties  for  a  popuhir  hero,  iiraxc  ahnost  l(^  the 
point  of  recklessness,  he  \va>  ^iniple  and  unassuniin;.;  in  apix-'arance  and 
de[)ortnient,  and  kind  and  L,^e:iial  in  manm-r.  A  story  is  told  of  him  that  once 
when  travelini^f  in  the  White  .Mo'-intains.  a  man  liroiiL^ht  his  little  daughter,  at 
her  own  urgent  request,  some  fifteen  miles  to  see  him,  for  she  would  n(jt  be 
cont(;nt  till  she  had  looked  on  the  L,^reat  admiral.  I'arra-ut  took  the  child  in 
his  arms,  kissed  her.  and  talked  [)layfully  with  h  -r.  lie  w;is  tlressed  in  citizen's 
costume,  and  look<-d  in  her  eyes  very  much  like  any  other  man.  and  totally 
unlike  the  hero  whose  praises  had  been  so  Ion-'  rin-in^-  o\er  the  land.  In  her 
innocent  sur|)rise,  she  said,  "Why.  you  do  not  look  like  a  -re-at  L;e'ne-ral.  I 
5aw  one  the  other  day,  and  he  was  covered  all  ov(:'r  with  i^old."  The  admiral 
laughed,  and.  to  please  h<jr.  actually  took  her  to  his  room,  and  put  on  his  uni- 
form, when  she  went  away  satisfied. 


•  A\0DEL    of- 

US. /^AM  UP  Was;  "'      --' 


JAMES  A.  GARFIELD, 

Cn^IXKX,     >^TA'l"KSM.\X.     1  '  K  lOiSI  IJ  1-:  NT. 


L'RIXCi  the  iciil;'.  siihr_\-  ihiys  of  the  simiiiU'r  v.[  iSSi,  at 
almost  L-\cry  iiL-wsjiaprr  and  tc-lei^Taph  ottice  stooil  a  L^roup 
(if  i)C()i)U;,  which  S!)niininu;.s  swcllc.-d  iiUo  a  ^rcat  crowd, 
watching-  (•a^crlv  tor  the  sli[)s  of  paper  which  troin  time  to 
time  were  posted  m  a  conspicuous  place  on  the  tront  ot 
the  Ijuildiiii:;-.  In  tin-  inter\-als  they  would  ^athm-  in  little 
•3  knots  and  talk  lo-cther  in  low  tones.  Vn  one  who  dlid 
not  know  what  hatl  hap[)ened  on  July  2(\.  it  would  ha\e 
been  hard  to  ^iiess  what  L;-athered  these  waiting-  crowds,  day 
i  "«s>  after  cku',  throuL;]u)Ut  the  land.  With  intense,  foreboding 
'  suspense;  fifty  millions  of  people  were  watching'  tor  the  news  trom 
the  l)edside  of  the  Presideiit  of  the  United  State-s,  who  had  been 
stricken  down  by  the  bullet  of  an  assassin.  Who  that  lived  through  diat  Kmil; 
summer  can  forget  those  anxious  days  and  niL;htsi^  .\iul  when  at  last  tin;  l)ra\e 
struL;-yle  tor  lite  was  endetl,  and  the  silent  torm  was  borne  from  tin;  sc^asiile  to 
rest  on  the  shores  of  Lake  Erie,  who  can  foroet  the  solemn  hush  which  seemed 
to  prevail  everywhere  as  the  tomb  opened  to  receive  all  that  was  mortal  ot  the 
beloved  President,  James  A.  Ciarfield  ? 

To  some  not  well  acquainted  with  riarlldd's  history,  it  may  seem  that  the 
tragic  and  pathetic  circumstances  of  his  illness  and  ileath  were  the  chict  cause 
of  the  universal  love  and  s^rief  which  were  manifested  tor  him  :  l>ut  a  study  <it 
his  lite  will  corr(.>ct  this  irni)ression.  b'ew  public  men  of  our  time  ha\e  h;id  a 
career  which  was  so  gradual  and  steady  a  Ljrowth  ;  ami  tew  indeed  attain  to  the 
full,  ri|)e,  well-roup.ded  comjileteness  whicii  iiKuhdiim  a  really  L;reat  statesman. 
Steadilv,  inch  bv  inch,  he  hatl  worked  his  wav  up,  ne\cr  tailing'  liack,  until  the 
topmost  round  of  th('  hulder  was  reache(l  :  and  ncn-er  was  success  more  tulh' 
deser\etl  or  more'  Ijravely  won. 

lames  Abram  CJartield  was  born  in  Cuyahoj^a  county,  Ohio,  on  Xo\-ember 
ig,  1831.  He  was  but  two  years  old  when  his  father  died  sudilenl\-,  leaviuLi^ 
his  mother  with  tour  children,  and  her  only  source  of  support  a  small  farm, 
encumbered  by  debt,  in  the  half-cleared  t'orests  of  northern  Ohio.     She  worked 

411 


4i; 


JAMhS  A.  CARi'IELD. 


early  and  late,  th(;  children  hclpiiii^  her.  Jaiiies  had  "  not  a  lazy  bone  in  his 
body."  When  hartlly  niort:  than  a  l)ai)y,  he  picked  ch(;rries,  plantetl  corn, 
j^atheretl  veii^etables,  and  helped  in  a  hundred  ways.  He  early  developed  a 
great  a[)titude  lor  the  use  of  tools,  and  as  he  i^rew  up  inade  an  excellent  car- 
penter. There  \v;is  hardly  a  barn,  shed,  or  buildinL;'  of  any  kinil  put  u])  in  the 
neighborhood  but  bort;  the  marks  of  his  skill.  Tlu;  money  earned  b)'  the  use 
of  his  tools  in  sumnii;r  helped  to  pay  for  his  schooling  in  the  winter. 

lames  early  developed  a  gri;at  \o\v.  for  Ijooks.  .Stories  of  battle,  taU.'s  of 
adventure,  the  lives  of  great  men,  all  such  wv.xv.  irresistibly  fascinating  to  him. 
Two  books,  W'eems's  "Life  of  Marion"  and  (irimshaw's  "Napoleon,"  stirred 


Till';    ilii.ME    c.i|'   C.VKriKI.l)  S    ClIIMUliluI), 


in  him  a  great  desire  for  tht:  military  career  on  whicli  he  entered  with  so  much 
promise  in  later  life  ;  and  stories  f)f  th(^  sea  at  last  aroused  an  irresistible  long- 
ing for  a  sailor's  life',  lie  went  to  Clev(/land  and  trit'd  to  secure  employment 
on  one  of  the  lake  vessels,  but  was  unsuccessful.  The  only  o|K'ning  in  the  line 
of  maritime  commerct;  was  on  the  f^hio  and  Pennsylvania  canal,  and  James 
accepted  th(;  position  of  driver,  at  twelve  dollars  a  month.  Such  was  his 
capacity  and  attention  to  duty  that  in  the  first  round  trip  he  had  learned  all 
there  was  to  be  learned  on  the  tow-jiath.  He  was  promptly  promoted  from 
driver  to  liowsman,  and  accorded  the  proud  privilege  of  steering  the  boat 
instead  of  steering  the  mules. 


LIFE  OX  THE  CAXAL. 


413 


Diiriii!^  his  first  tri|)  \v  IVII  ovcrhoaivl  foiirtixMi  times,  by  actual  count.  In 
this  way  he  contracted  malaria,  whicli  loiiL,'- rcmaiiK.'d  with  him.  Ih;  could  not 
swim  a  stroke.  One  dark,  rainy  niL;ht  he  ai^^Min  fell  into  the  canal,  when  no  help 
was  at  hand,  and  was  saved  as  by  a  miracle,  the  rope  at  which  he  caught  "kink- 
ini;' "  and  holding- fast  while  Ik-  drew  himself  on  deck.  iSelii'xinL;'  that  he  was 
providentially  savetl  for  somethim^-  better  than  steerin;^- a  canal-boat,  he  returned 
home,  resolved  to  obtain  an  education  and  make  a  man  of  himself 

EAKNINC.    .\N    KPLXWrioN. 

In  the  winter  of  1S49  he  attt;nded  (ieaui^^a  Seminary,  where  he  and  three 
other  youni;'  men  "  boarded  themselves,"  living  on  about  fifty  cents  a  week  each. 


«i3 


GAKI  IKI.U    fiN    Tin;     lilW-l'A  TH. 


Here  he  met  a  quiet,  studious  c;irl,  Lucretia  Rudoljjh,  the  daughter  of  a  Mary- 
land farmer,  who  afterward  became  his  wife.  lie  was  an  intense  student.  lie 
had  an  insatiable  a|)pelite  for  knowledge,  and  would  make  any  sacrifice  to 
obtain  it.  At  the  close  of  the  session  he  worked  throui:^h  tln'  \acation,  and 
also  tauijht  a  country  school,  to  earn  money  for  the  iollowiii'- winter.  lie  was 
a  capital  teacher.  He  stirred  a  n(;w  life  and  ambition  in  his  scholars,  and 
roused  in  them  an  (.-nthusiasm  almost  equal  to  his  own. 

In  August,  1 85 1,  Garfield  entered  a  new  school  established  at  Hiram, 
Portage  county,  by  the  religious  society  to  which  he  belonged,  the  Disciples 
of  Christ,  or  *' Campliellites."  Here  he  resolved  to  prepare  himself  for  college. 
He  lived  in  a  room  with  four  other  pupils,  and  studied  harder  than  ever.     When 


414 


/.\.\//iS  A.  C.IKI  //JJl 


he  went  ti)  Ilir;iin  he  had  stii(lic(I  Latin  oiiK-  six  weeks,  and  just  !icL;un  ("ircck; 
and  was,  tin  rdnrc,  justin  a  condiiion  tu  tairly  ln^in  the  tour  y<ars'  prfiiaralory 
coiirs(;  (H-diiKiril\-  taken  liy  students  to  ent<T  collei.^c  in  the  tVeshnian  class. 
Y«:t  in  ///;■<■(■  yars'  time  lie  fitted  hiniselt"  to  enter  tin-  juiiit>r  clas->,  and  at  tlu- 
same  time  earned  his  own  li\inL;,  thus  crowdiiii;-  six  years'  stud)'  into  three,  and 
teat  hiuL;-  lor  siipiiort  .it  thi-  same  time.  Alter  some  d<  hate  he  resoKed  to  l;(i  to 
Williams  L"()ll<;L;e.  in  lierkshirt,',  .Massachusetts,  and  enteri:d  there  in  1S54. 

Study  at  Williams  was  easy  for  (larlield.  lie  had  heen  used  to  nuicli 
harder  W(ii-k  at    1  liram.      llis   lessons  w(,'re   always   piu'lcctly  learn<'d.     (  )n(- of 

the  protessors  called  him  "  the  hoy 
who  ne\-er  llunked,  "  and  lir  vlid 
much  extra  readin;^-  and  stucK'in^-, 

In  the  summer  ot"  1S56,  after 
only  two  years  of  study,  Carlleld 
i^radualeil  at  Williams  College,  and 
returned  to  his  (  )hio  home.  In  the 
autumn  he  enten-d  I  liram  Colle^^e 
as  a  teacher  of  ancient  laiiLjiiayes 
and  literature.  The  next  \ear,  at 
the  aL;e  of  twenty  six,  he  was  made 
president  of  the  institution.  This 
othce  he  held  for  live  years.  I'nder 
his  manaL;(;ment  the  attendance  was 
douhled  ;  he  raised  tin;  standard  of 
scholarship,  strenothiMied  its  faculty, 
and  inspired  (everybody  connecti-d 
with  it  with  somethiuL.;-  of  his  own 
zeal  anil  enthusiasm.  In  1S5S  he 
married  his  old  schoolmate,  Miss 
Rudolph,  and  they  Ix'^an  life  in  a  little  cottaL;e  fnjntini;-  on  the  orounds  of  the 
college. 

Clarfield's  [Militical  career  ma\  lie  said  to  ha\e  fairly  l)ey;un  in  the  campaign 
of  iS57-'5S,  when  he  made  a  number  of  political  spi'eches.  In  iSsc;  ht- was 
cU'Cted  to  tin;  .'-^tate  Senate  of  Ohio,  and  bicame  a  notctd  member  of  that  l)ody. 
Wiu'ii  the  war  brokt;  oLit  in  1S61,  and  I'resiihMit  Lincoln  issued  liis  call  for 
75,000  men,  ( "i  aril  eld  mo\'ed  in  lh(;  ( )hio  .SiMiate  to  make  20,000  troops  and 
>;3, 000,000  the  ([uota  of  the  State.  In  August  Go\ernor  Dennison,  the  famous 
"  war  eo\-(.'rnor  "  of  Ohio,  otfereil  him  the  lieutenant-colont'lcy  of  the  42d  C^hio 
Regiment,  which  was  then  beini^;  organized.  Most  of  the  regiment  were  old 
students  of  1  liram  Colleq-e,  so  that  Ik;  wouKl  lie  surrounded  in  the  field  by  the 
same  faces  amom^'    wliom   he   had    taught.     lie    soon   decided    to  accept  the 


f 


G.XKIllI.I'    A  I     Till'.    AI.1-:    111'    SI.v;rKKN, 


rill:  KI.XTL'CKV  CAMI'AIGX. 


415 


coininissioii.  His  way  of  prDCfodiiii;-  to  drill  his  company  was  characteristic  of 
the  tiiachcr  as  wi'il  as  the  soKlier.  lie  inailt;  soUliiirs  of  woodfii  l>locks,  fash- 
ioiicil  in  ditfcrcnt  forms  to  ri'iirtsciU  the  oft'ictTs,  and  widi  thi-si-  Mocks  he  car- 
ried on  with  iiis  subordinates  ''ames  of  militars'  tactics,  until,  when  the  reijiment 
was  ready  to  £,0  into  service,  it  was  pronounced  one  of  the  most  tliorouyhly 
drilU'il  in  the  whole  army. 

lp;iIIIN<;    IN    KLM'ICKS'. 

In  Di'cemlier  of  1S61  (iarlield's  ri'i^dment  was  ordered  into  service  in 
KfMitucky  and  West  X'ir^jinia.  At  that  time  the  ilestiny  of  Kentucky  was  still 
in  doubt.      Thouij^h  much  attaclu'd  to  the  rnion,  it  was  a  slave  State,  and  strong 


IIIKAM   c "I.i.k;!;. 


influences  were  at  work  to  draw  it  within  tht;  vortex  of  secession.  Two  Confed 
erate  armies  were  marching  norlhwanl  through  the  State,  one  under  ZoUi- 
koffer  an<l  the  other  under  Humphrey  Marshall.  GarfieUl  was  dispatch(;d 
atj^ainst  Marshall's  forces.  He  met  them  on  tln^  Ijanks  of  Midtlle  Creek,  a 
narrow  and  rapid  stre.im,  tlowiuL,''  iiUo  the  \V\'^  Sandy,  tiirou^h  the  sharp  spurs 
of  the  Cumberland  Mountains.  His  force  amounted  to  only  i  loo  men  ;  they 
met  at  least  5000,  antl  tlefeatc^l  them.  Marshall's  force  was  driven  from 
Kentucky,  and  made  no  further  attempt  to  occuj^y  the  .Sandy  \'alley.  This 
campaign  was  conducted  under  the  greatest  possible  difhculties,  and  it  has 
received  the  highest  praist;  from  military  critics. 

After  his  success  in  Kentucky,  Gartield  was  sent  with  his  regiment  to  join 


4i6  JAMIiS  A.  GARFIELD. 

Grant  in  Mississippi.  H<;  arrivetl,  with  the  other  forces  under  lUiell.  just  in  time 
to  help  in  the  st.'cuntl  day's  battle  at  Shiloh,  and  to  turn  the  title  in  tavor  of  the 
Union  army.  After  this  battle  he  was  for  some  time  employed  in  rebuildinjjf 
railroads  and  bridges.  In  midsummer,  howexer,  he  was  oblinetl  to  return  home 
on  sick-lea\e.  As  soon  as  he  recovered,  he  was  ordered  lo  join  Cient:ral  Rose- 
crans,  Uicn  in  command  of  the  Army  of  the  Cumberland.  lie  was  made  the 
commander's  chief-of-statf  and  actetl  in  this   position   during;-  the  followiny'  year. 

(^n  .September  k),  1S63.  was  fou;^ht  tin-  ^rt'at  battle  of  Chickamaui^a,  which 
but  for  the  liravery  and  steadiness  ot  (lencral  Thomas  would  proliably  have 
resulted  in  the-  destruction  of  the  Union  army,  Rosecraus,  accompanied  by  his 
chiebof-statf,  hail  left  the  battlt^-field.  and  L^one  hastily  to  Chattanooga,  to  provide 
for  the  retreat  which  be  then  thought  inevital)le.  On  reaching-  Chattanooga, 
(iartield,  at  his  ur^^-ent  retjuest,  was  permitted  to  return  to  the  battU^-held,  where 
he  found  Ihomas  still  en^^ai^ed  in  ri'sistin^^  the  attack  of  the  Confederate  forces. 
Immediatelv  after  his  arrival  a  fresh  assault  was  made,  lastini;  half  an  hour,  when 
the  Confetlerates  linally  l^-oke,  antl  abandonetl  the  attack.  Carfield  remained 
on  the  field  with  General  TlKjmas  until  niyht,  and  accompanied  him  in  his  retreat 
to  ChattanooL^a. 

Soon  aft<jr  the  battle  of  Chickamaui^a  GarfieUl  was  nominated  for  CouL^^ress 
from  the  Northern  District  of  Ohio,  Almost  at  the  same  time  he  received  his 
promotion  to  tlie  <;rade  of  major-gi'ene'ral  for  his  gallant  services  in  the  Chatta- 
noojji'a  campaign.  1  lis  salary  as  major-Ljeneral  would  be  more  tl;an  doubU;  that 
which  he  would  receive  as  Congressman  ;  but  he  was  convinced  that  he  could 
do  the  country  more'  service  in  the  latter  position,  and  accordini:;ly  took  his  place 
in  Cons^'ress,  where  he  remained  until,  si.xteen  years  later,  he  was  nominated  for 
President. 

Garfickl's  career  in  Conc^^ress  was  onv.  of  st(?ady  advancement.  At  its 
besj^innin^-  he  w.is  noted  as  an  efficient  and  original  public  man.  He  was 
exceetlin^ly  industrious  and  attentive  to  legislative  business,  and  the  measures 
which  he  oriL;"inatetl  and  advocated  in  Congress  i;ave  him  a  wide  and  lastini^- 
reputation.  In  his  second  tt-rm,  during-  tht;  latter  [lart  of  the  war,  his  fmancial 
ability  had  Ix-come  so  apparent  that  the  .Secret, iry  of  the  Treasury  requested 
the  .S[)eaker  to  make?  him  a  member  of  the  W'.iys  and  Means  Committee,  that 
the  coimtry  miu;ht  ha\e  the  biMiefit  of  his  ability  and  experience.  'Throus^diout 
his  whole  term  of  service,  his  inlluence  steadily  increased,  and  when  in  1S77  Mr, 
Hlaine  was  transferred  from  the  Tiouse  to  the  Simate,  Garfield  was  by  common 
consent  matle  the  leader  of  the  Rej^idjlican  party  in  the  House. 

In  18S0  Gart'iekl  was  nominated  ami  elected  United  States  Senator  by  the 
Ohio  Leo;islature,  and  on  June  loth  of  the  same  year  he  was  nominated  at 
Chica,iL,'-o  for  the  I'resiilency, 

The  meeting-  of  the  Republican   National   Convention  in  Chicago,  in  June, 


THE  CHICAGO  CONVENTION. 


417 


'riiirty-fivc;  ballots 


iSSo,  was  one  of  the  most  memorable  in  the  history  of  the  party.  The  poi)u- 
larity  of  General  Ciraiit  hatl  b(!en  iinmeiist;ly  incn.-ased  by  the  honors  shoui'nal 
upon  him  by  all  nations  in  iiis  trip  arounil  tli(!  world,  from  wliich  lu;  IluI  rc-cently 
returned  ;  and  his  powerful  supp.)rl(-n's,  ConkliiiL;'  of  New  N'ork,  Cameron  ot 
Pennsylvania,  and  Logan  of  Illinois,  were  bent  upon  noininatiiiL;  him  for  a  third 
t(n-m.  His  i^reat  rival  was  James  Ci.  IMaini,',  whose  popularity  was  almost  as 
gieat  as  that  of  Grant  ;  and  S(;nators  Sherman  and  lulmunds  were  also  strouL^ly 
supportt;d,  especially  by  those  who  disliked  the  "third  term"  idea.  Garl'icld 
was  himself  a  dc'leyate  from  ()hi().  Slicrman  was  the  man  ol  his  choice,  and  he 
worketl  with  all  his  mii^ht  to  secure  his  nomination. 

For  a  full  week  the  convention  continued  in  session, 
were  cast  without  a  majority  for  any  one 
of  the  candidates.  ( )n  the  morning'  of 
the  last  day  tin;  thirtieth  l)alIot  r(.;sulted 
in  306  votes  for  (irant;  279  for  Dlaine  ; 
120  for  Sherman  ;  33  for  Washburne  ;  11 
for  Echnunds  ;  4  for  W'indom  ;  and  2  for 
Garfield.  Nothing  could  change  the  vote 
of  Grant's  famous  "  3^6  ;  "  but  neither 
could  the  best  efforts  of  his  fricjiuls  in- 
crease the  ranks  o{  that  faithful  liand  ;  and 
37S  was  the  number  required  for  a  nomi- 
nation. It  became  evident  also  that  Blaine 
could  not  be  nominated,  although  his  sup- 
porters were  almost  as  steady  as  those 
of  Grant.  His  vote,  which  on  the  first 
ballot  was  2S4,  remained  nearly  the  same 
until  the  last  day.  F.vidently  the  vote  of 
those  opposed  to  Grant  must  bi:  massed 
upon    some    otlun"    camlidate.     Who  that 

candidate  was  diil  not  appear  until  the  thirty-fourth  l^illot,  wIkmi  17  votes  were 
cast  for  CJarfield.  As  soon  as  this  result  was  announced,  the  end  of  the  long 
struggle  was  foreseen.  On  the  next  ballot  his  vote  increased  to  50,  and  on  the 
thirty-sixth  and  last,  nearly  all  the  delegates  except  Grant's  immovable  306 
came  over  to  Garfield  with  a  rush.  1  le  received  399  votes,  which  maile  him 
the  choice  of  the  convention  for  President. 

Garfield's  opponent  in  the  canvass  was  Gt'iieral  W'infifdtl  .S.  I  lancock,  one 
of  the  bravest  soldiers  of  the  civil  war,  who  had  been  wounded  at  tin;  great 
battle  of  Gettysburg.  The  tariff  question  was  the  chief  issue  of  the  campaign  ; 
and  on  this  and  similar  questions  of  national  policy  Garfield  was  admirably 
equipped  and  perfectly  at  nome  ;  while  to  General   I  lancock,  whose  training 


HON.    JnllN    >in:RMAN" 


4l! 


JAMES  A.  GARFIELD. 


was  aUoL^cihcr  that  of  a  soUruT,  tlicy  wen-  \\v\s  and  uiifaniili;ir.  After  an  active 
an<l  aI)ly-f()u_L;ht  contest,  (iarficKl  was  ch'Cted  by  a  vote  of  214,  to  155  for  liis 
ccjinix'titor. 

(iarilcKl's  administration  b(;,;an  wiili  war, — political  war, — war  with  the 
elements  in  his  own  party  wliieh  liad  supported  ( Irant  at  the  Chicago  conven- 
tion, and  which  now  tiMiisferred  the  contest  to  the  .Senate.  So  [)eculiar  was  this 
.vell-reinembereci  slni;^L;le,  and  so  far-reaching;-  in  its  effects,  that  the  story  de- 
serves to  be  brielly  told. 

The  very  hrst  (question  that  met  Garfield  on  his  accession  was   that  of 

apijointnients.    Mr.  Conkliny,  the 
senior  senator  from  New  York, 
hatl    been    the    chief   and    most 
determined  advocate  of  Grant's 
nomination.        Ily    the     practice 
known  as  the   "courtesy  of  the 
Senate,"    it    was    customary    for 
that  body  to  decline   to  conhrm 
nominations  made  by  the  Presi- 
dent   to    otfices    in     any    State 
which    were    distasteful     to    the 
senators    from     that    State.       In 
making;'     nominations     for     New 
V(jrk  offices  the  President  had  in 
most  cases  named  men  unobjec 
tionable    to    .Senator    Conkliny- ; 
but  followiui;-   these  was  one  of 
William    1  1.  Robertson  to  l)e  col- 
lector of  customs   at  New  York, 
which  was  especially    obnoxious 
to    him.     Judi^re    Robertson    had 
been  one  of  the  New  York  dele- 
j^rates  to  die  Chicai^o  con\i'ntion,  and  had  led  in  origan i/in^;'  the  final  "l)olt"  to 
(i.irfield.      .\n  eftort  was  made  to  ijet  the   Prc-sident  to   withdraw  this   nomina- 
tion :  but  he  declined.      Mr.  e'onklin-  th'U  broui^ht  about  an  arrangement  with 
lie  1  )emocratic  scmators  b\-  which  all   nominations  opposed  l,y  a  senator  trom 
the  nominee's   .State   should    "lie  o\er "    without  action,  l)ut  others  should  be 
confirmed.     The  effrct  of  iliis  was  to   force   Mr.  Rolx-rtson's  nomination  to  140 
over  until  the  following  December.      With  this  result   Mr.  Conklinn;  was  highly 
pleased,  for  he  had  succeeded   in   drixiiiL;-  the   senators   into  a   su[)port  of  liim 
without  makiuL;  an  open  rupture  lietwcen  them  and  the  President.     Mr.  Conk- 
liu"-,  it  seemed  that  ni^ht,  had  the  be-^t  of  it. 


CIll.^TIR    AI.AN    ARTIiri;,    CARin-II  l'>    ^rCCl.-:>OR. 


THE  ASSASSIN  A  T/ON.  4 1 9 

The  PresidtMit,  however,  was  not  yet  beaten.  Willi  magnificent  phick,  that 
was  hailed  by  the  people  everywhere  with  applause,  \\(i  dealt  Mr.  Conklinj^  a 
fatal  blow.  The  ne.xt  niornino-,  May  5th,  all  the  nominations  that  were  pleasing^ 
to  Mr.  Conkling  were  withdrawn  ;  that  ot  Judi;e  Robertson  was  not.  This 
defined  the  issue  sharply,  and  obli^s^ed  senators  to  choose  between  the:  President 
and  the  New  York  senator.  They  declined  to  follow  Mr.  Conkliny,  and  Rob- 
ertson's nomination  was  confirmed.  Then  Mr.  Conklini^r  and  his  colleague, 
Mr.  I'latt,  in  the  most  sensational  manncn-  resigned  thcMr  seats  in  the  Senate, 
evidently  believing  that  they  would  be  [)romptly  re-elected,  and  thus  secure  a 
"  vindication  "  of  thc.'ir  course  from  their  own  .Stale. 

Hut  th(;y  reckoned  without  their  host.  The  fight  was  now  transferred  tG» 
Albany  ;  but  Mr.  CcMikling's  power  over  the  New  York  Legislature  was  gone^ 
Public  opinion  sustained  the  President.  The  two  senators  resorted  to  every 
expedient  known  to  politics  to  secure  their  re-election,  but  their  efforts  were  in 
vain  ;  Messrs.  Miller  and  Lapham  were  chosen  to  fill  the  vacant  seats,  and  the- 
two  ex-senators  were  allowed  to  remain  in  private  life.  But  before  this  rcsulc 
was  reached,  and  while  the  ignoble  struggle  was  still  going  on  in  the  New  York 
Legislature,  the  great  tragedy  occurred  which  plunged  the  whole  country  into 
deep  sorrow. 

TiiK  TRAf;r:i)V  ok   iSSi. 

."-Saturday,  July  2,  1881,  was  a  fair,  hot  mitlsummer  day.  The  inmates  of 
the  W^hite  House  were  astir  early.  The  President  was  going  to  Massachusetts 
to  attend  the  commencement  exercises  at  his  old  college  at  Williamstown,  and 
afterward  to  take  a  holiday  jaunt  through  New  PZngland,  accompanied  by  several 
members  of  the  Cabinet  and  other  friends.  His  wift:,  who  was  at  Long  P)ranch, 
New  Jersey,  just  recovering  from  a  severe  attack  of  malarial  fever,  was  to  join 
him  at  New  York.  He  had  looked  forward  with  almost  boyish  delight  to  his 
tri[),  and  was  in  high  spirits  as  he  and  Secretary  l)laine  drove  off  to  the  railway 
station. 

There  was  no  crowtl  about.  Most  of  those  who  were  to  take  the.;  train  had 
already  gone  on  board.  Among  the  few  persons  in  the  waiting-room  was  a 
slender,  middle-aged  man,  who  walked  up  and  down  rather  nervously,  occasion- 
ally looking  out  of  the  door  as  if  expecting  some  one.  There  was  nothing 
about  him  to  attract  special  notice,  and  no  one  paid  much  attention  to  him. 
\Vh(Mi  President  Ciarlield  and  Mr.  Blaine  entered,  he  drew  back,  took  a  heavy 
revolver  from  his  pocket,  ami,  taking  deliberate  aim,  fireil.  The  ball  struck  the 
President  on  the  shoulder.  1  le  turned,  surjirised,  to  see  who  had  shot  him. 
The  assassin  recocked  his  revolver  and  fired  again,  ami  them  turned  to  llee. 
The  President  fell  to  the  floor,  the  blood  gushing  from  a  wound  in  his  side. 

In  a  moment  all  was  confusion  and  horror.     .Secretary  Blaine  sprang  after 
the  assassin,  but,  seeing  that  he  was  caught,  turned  again  to  the  President. 
25 


420 


JAMES  A.  GARFIELD. 


The  shock  h;ul  bcc-n  trn.'.it,  and  he  was  very  pale.  A  mattress  was  brought,  his 
tall  form  was  lifted  tenderly  into  an  ambulance,  and  he  was  swiftly  borne  to  the 
Executive  Mansion.  His  first  thought  was  for  his  wife, — the  beloved  wife  of  his 
youth,  just  recovering  from  sickness,  e.xpecting  in  a  i^tw  hours  to  meet  him. 
How  would  she  bear  the  tidings  of  this  blow  ? 

"Rockwell,"  he  said,  faintly,  to  a  friend,  "  I  want  you  to  send  a  message  to 
'  Crete  '  "  (his  pet  name  for  his  wife,  Lucretia).     "  Tell  her  1  am  seriously  hurt, 


y/m^) 


r^    tl    IfK    ,' 


GARriKI.U's    ASSASSINAXmN. 

how  seriously  I  cannot  yet  say.     I  am   myself,  and  hope  she  will  come  to   me 
soon.     I  send  my  love  to  her." 

A  swift  train  brought  Mrs.  Garfield  to  her  husband's  side  that  evening  ; 
and  then  began  the  long  struggle  for  life,  with  its  lluctuations  between  hope  and 
dread,  which  lasted  for  almost  thrcn;  months.  Just  after  Mrs.  Garfield's  arrival 
there  was  a  sutlden  collapse  which  seemed  to  be  the  end,  and  the;  family  of  the 
President  were  hastily  summoned  to  his  bedside  ;  but,  to  the  surprise  of  every 
one,  the  crisis  passed,  and  for  three  weeks  he  seemed  to  improve.  Then  came 
a  turn  for  the  worse,  and  from  that  time  the  President  lost  ground.  The  hot 
summer  days,  hard  to  bear  even  for  those  in  full  health,  wasted  and  weakened 


THE  FUNERAL  TRAhX.  42 1 

him  terribly.  He  sank  steadily  ;  and  it  was  seen  that  unless  relief  from  the 
intense  heat  could  be  had,  he  would  inevitably  die  witliin  a  few  days.  It  was 
decided  to  remove  him  to  Elberon,  on  the  ocean  shore,  near  Loni^^  Branch,  New 
Jersey  ;  and  on  September  7th,  accompanied  by  his  family  and  the  members  of 
the  cabinet,  he  was  borne  by  a  swift  special  train  northward  to  the  seaside.  A 
summer  cottage  had  been  offered  for  his  use,  and  there  for  two  an.xious  weeks 
lay  the  man  who,  it  may  be  truly  said,  had  become 

Tlie  i)illar  of  a  people's  hope, 
The  centre  of  a  world's  desire. 

The  cooling  breezes  of  the  seaside  brought  some  relief,  and  the  change  no 
doubt  prolonged  his  life  ;  but  it  could  not  be  saved.  In  the  night  of  .SepttMuber 
19th,  almost  without  warning,  the  end  came  ;  the  feeble  llame  of  life,  so 
anxiously  watched  and  cherished,  llickered  a  moment,  and  then  went  out  in  the 
darkness. 

The  President's  body  was  borne  back  to  Washington,  where  it  lay  in  state, 
viewed  by  great  throngs  of  mourning  people  ;  then  it  was  tak(Mi  westw'ard  to 
Cleveland,  and  laid  in  the  tomb  by  the  shores  of  Lake  Erie,  almost  in  sight  of 
his  old  home.  The  journey  was  one  long  funeral  pageant.  For  almost  the 
entire  distance  the  railway  tracks  were  lined  with  crowds  of  people,  who,  with 
uncovered  heads,  stood  in  reverent  silence  as  the  train  passed.  Not  since  the 
day  when  that  other  dead  President,  the  great  Lincoln,  was  borne  to  his  last 
resting-piace,  had  such  an  assembly  been  gathered  ;  and  the  love  and  grief 
which  followed  Garfield  to  his  grave  are  the  best  tribute  to  the  worth  of  his 
character. 

Five  months  later,  in  the  hall  of  the  House  of  Representatives  at  Washing- 
ton, amid  such  a  throng  as  that  chamber  has  seldom  seen,  .Secretary  Hlaine 
delivered  his  eulogy  of  the  dead  President ;  and  from  that  splendid  and  pathetic 
address  we  take  the  concluding  words,  which  will  fitly  close  this  brief  sketch  : — 

Great  in  life,  he  was  surpassingly  great  in  dc.ilh.  .  .  Through  days  of  deadly  languor, 
through  weeks  of  agony  tliat  was  not  less  agon}-  because  silently  borne,  with  clear  sight  and  calm 
courage,  he  looketi  into  his  o])en  grave.  Wliat  blight  and  ruin  met  his  anguished  eyes,  whose  iip.s 
may  tell  I — what  brilliant  broken  plans,  what  baffled  high  anibiticjns,  what  sundering  of  strong,  warm 
manhood's  friendships,  what  bitter  rending  of  sweet  hmischold  ties  !  Beliind  him  a  proud,  expect- 
ant nation,  a  great  host  of  sustaining  friends,  a  cherished  and  ha])py  mother,  wearing  tiie  full,  rich 
honors  of  her  early  toils  and  tears:  the  wife  of  his  \outh,  whose  whole  life  lay  in  his;  tiie  little 
I'oys,  not  yet  emerged  from  childhood's  da\'  of  frolic  ;  the  fair  young  daughter ;  thesturdv  sons  just 
springing  into  closest  companionship,  claiming  every  day  and  every  day  rewarding  a  fatiier's  love 
and  care  ;  and  in  his  heart  the  eager,  rejoicing  power  to  meet  all  demand.  IJefore  him.  desolation 
and  great  darkness  1  .And  his  soul  was  not  shaken.  His  cotmtrymen  were  thrilled  with  instant, 
profound,  and  universal  sympathy.  Masterful  in  his  mortal  weakness,  he  became  the  centre  of  a 
nation's  love,  enshrined  in  the  ])rayers  of  a  world,  liut  all  the  love  and  all  the  sympathy  could  not 
share  with  him  his  suffering.      He  trod  the  wine-i)ress  alone.      \\'ith  tnifaltering  front  he  faced  death. 


422 


JAMES  A.  GARFIELD. 


With  iinfailinf;  tenderness  he  took  leave  of  life.     Above  the  demoniac  hiss  of  the  assassin's  bullet  ht 
heard  the  voire  of  (Jod.     With  simple  resignation  he  bowed  to  the  Divine  decree. 

As  the  end  drew  near,  his  early  craving  for  the  sea  returned.  The  stately  mansion  of  jxnver 
had  been  to  him  the  wearisome  hospital  of  jjain,  and  he  begged  to  be  taken  from  its  prison  walls, 
from  its  oppressive,  stifling  air,  from  its  homelessness  and  hopelessness.  (Jently,  silently,  the  love 
of  a  great  [ieo])]e  bore  the  pale  sufferer  to  the  longed  for  healing  of  the  sea,  to  live  or  to  die,  as  God 
should  will,  within  sigjit  of  its  heaving  billows,  within  sound  of  its  manifold  voices.  With  wan, 
fevered  face  tenderly  lifted  to  the  cooling  breeze,  he  looked  out  wistfully  upon  the  ocean's  changing 
wonders;  on  its  fair  sails,  whitening  in  the  morning  light;  on  its  restless  waves,  rolling  shoreward 
to  break  and  die  beneath  the  noonday  sun;  on  the  red  clouds  of  evening,  arching  low  to  the  hori- 
zon ;  on  the  serene  and  shining  jathway  of  the  stars.  Let  us  think  that  hisdying  eyes  read  a  mvstic 
meaning  which  only  the  rajU  and  jarting  soul  may  know.  Let  us  believe  that  in  the  silence  of  the 
receding  world  he  heard  the  great  waves  breaking  on  a  further  shore,  and  felt  already  upon  his 
wasted  brow  the  breath  of  the  eternal  morning. 


■    u-"-^*      --I    ■1.-; 


TABIXT    IN    ItIK    WAITIN(;-RO(>M    OF    TUK    RAIIAVAY 
STATIO.N    WHERE   GARFIELD    WAS   SHOT. 


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SAMl'EL  J,  TU.I>K?i. 


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SAMUEL  J.   TILDEN, 

THE  GREAT  REKOKVI  GOVERNOR. 

N  1S76,  the  great  Centennial  Year  of  the  Republic,  occurred  an 
event  unprecedented  in  our  history,  and  so  portentous  and 
alarminir  that  for  a   time   it  threatened  civil   war  and   the 
destruction    of  our   government.      This  was    the    dis[)uted 
jM-esidential   contest  of   Hayes   aj^-ainst  Tilden,   which  was 
fmally  settled  by  the  Electoral  Commission,  which  decided 
the    election    in    favor    of   Mr.    Hayes.      Mr.   'Hlden    had 
received  a  large  majority  of  the  popular  vote,  and  he  and 
his    supporters   sincerely  believed   that  he  was  duly  and 
legally  elected  ;  and  it  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  his  self- 
command  and  his  patriotic  efforts  to  quiet  public  e.xcitement 
and  promote  acquiescence  in  the  decision  of  the  commis- 
sion went  far  to  save  the  country  from  anarchy  and  possible  war. 

Samuel  Jones  Tilden  was  born  February  9,  18 14,  in  Columbia  county, 
New  York, — one  of  the  counties  lying  between  the  liudson  and  the  western 
border  of  Massachusetts.  He  was  a  born  politician.  I'Vom  boyhood  he 
took  a  keen  interest  in  political  and  economic  questions,  studied  them  thor- 
oughly, and  discussed  them  eagerly.  Near  the  home  of  his  boyhood  lived 
Martin  \^an  Buren, — the  "Sage  of  Kinderhook,"  as  he  was  calletl, — the  suc- 
cessor of  Jackson,  and  one  of  the  ablest  political  leaders  of  his  time.  I'"or  Van 
Buren  young  Tilden  conceived  a  profound  admiration,  and  throughout  his  whole 
career  that  shrewd  statesman  was  his  model.  When  only  eighteen,  he  was  so 
stirred  by  the  political  discussions  of  his  elders,  in  the  hot  campaign  of  1832,  that 
he  wrote  an  "Address  to  the  People,"  a  shrewd  and  forcible  aj^piial  on  the 
pending  issues,  which  so  struck  Mr.  Van  Buren  that  he  advised  that  it  should 
be  published  in  the  newspapers.  This  was  done,  and  its  ability  was  so  marked 
that  it  was  attributed  to  \'an  Buren  himself  and  he  was  at  last  obliged  to  deny 
being  its  author.  Tilden,  also,  when  only  twenty-three,  appeared  suddenly  one 
day  on  the  platform  to  answer  a  speech  of  Senator  Tallmadge,  an  old  and  prac- 
ticed politician  ;  and  so  effective  was  his  impromptu  reply  that  it  was  greeted 
with  wild  applause  by  friends  and  foes  alike.     His  interest  in  politics,  and  his 

425 


426  SAJ/C  'EL  J.  TILDEX. 

ability  both  as  a  statci^inaii  and  a  practical  campaign   manai,u^r,  continued  and 
increased  to  tin;  end  of  his  lih'. 

Alter  coinpletinL;  his  college  ccnn'sc,  liklen  studieil  law  and  was  atlniitted 
to  the  bar  in  1S41,  IjeL^inninj^r  a  lonj;-  career  of  uninterrupted  success  and  l^tow- 
in;^-  lauK-.  1  le  was  a  "  born  lawyer,  "  no  less  than  a  born  politician.  I  le  had  a 
genius  lor  analysis,  an  insight  into  motives,  an  ability  to  untangle  and  make 
clt^ar  what  was  intricate;  or  perpk;.\ed,  which  is  posse'ised  by  very  f<.;w.  These 
qualities  he  c;.\hibitc:d  in  a  high  degree  in  tin;  Flagg  contested  election  case,  in 
1S36.  Magg,  the  Democratic  candidate  for  Comptroller  of  Xew  \'ork  city,  had 
20.313  votes,  anil  ( liles,  his  opponent,  hatl  20,1  ",4.  (iiles  contested  the  election, 
and  l)r()Ught  \vitnessi;s  who  swore;  that  in  one  ward,  which  gave  Magg  316  votes 
antl  (iiles  1S6,  the  numbe^rs  had  been  transp'jsed  on  tlu;  rt;turn-sheet,  and  that  the 
vote  was  really  1S6  for  I'lagg  and  316  for  t.iik;s.  TIk;  tally-shc;et  of  "straight" 
votes  had  disappeared — conv(;niently  fo;  the  prosecution  ;  and  the  tally-she(;ts 
of  split  v(jtes  corroborated  the;  testimt  iiy  of  their  witnesses.  'Ihen;  was  no 
evidence  to  l)i;  had  but  that  otl(;red  by  the  prosecution.  The  defence  seemed 
to  be  absolut(;ly  hclpk;ss.  Hut  Tilden  took  the  remaining  tally-sheets,  and 
spent  the  night  in  working  over  theni  ;  and  by  a  process  of  reasoning  from  them 
antl  the  "  straight"  ballots  cast,  he;  was  able;  te)  actually  reconstruct  the  missing 
tallies,  with  absolutely  certain  proe)f  that  the  trans[)osition  claimed  was  impossi- 
ble. In  his  opening  speech  he  gave;  his  astounded  opponents  the  first  notion  of 
the  evidence  which  he  had  built  up,  seemingly  frejm  nothing,  to  destroy  their 
case  : — 

If,  by  a  \i(ilciU  blow  (he  saiel),  I  slicuihi  break  out  the  corner  of  this  table,  aiul  split  a  piece 
off,  the  fractured  and  abradeel  libers  of  the  wootl  would  be  left  in  forms  so  peculiar  that,  though  all 
human  ingenuity  miuht  be  employed  to  fashion  a  piece  that  w(juld  fit  in  the  place  from  which  the 
fra!,'meut  had  been  broken,  it  could  not  be  done.  Those  thing's  that  are  the  work  of  ( 'lod  are  so 
much  superior  in  texture  to  anylhin:;  we  can  do,  that  when  they  are  broken  u])  our  ini,fenuit\-  can- 
not restore  them. 

He'  then  placed  in  the  hands  of  the  ceiurt  and  jtiry  printeel  copies  of  his 
rece)nstrticted  tallie;s,  and  e)f  all  the  regular  tickets,  anel  went  over  the;m  step  by 
step,  bv  which  pre)cess  the;y  wen'e  enable;el  te)  perceive  and  tlenionstrate,  each  for 
himself,  the;  impossibility  e)f  the  alleged  transpositiejii.  Within  fifte'eii  miiuit(;s 
afte;r  the  case;  was  stibmitted  to  the  jiu'y,  they  retin-ne;d  with  a  verdict  in  his 
fave)r. 

Mr.  Tilelen's  wonelerfid  powers  of  perceptie)n  and  analysis  gave  him  great 
succe;ss  in  the;  management  of  legal  business  e)f  great  ce)r[)e)rations,  where  intri- 
cate acce)imts  and  statistics,  anel  th(;  conilict  of  many  different  inter(;sts,  hid  and 
confuse;el  the'  re-al  epie;stie)ns.  So  able  was  he  in  rescuing  them  fre)m  ruinotis 
litigation,  reorganizing  their  atlministration,  and  re-arranging  their  affairs,  that 
it  is  said  that  more  than  half  the  great  railway  companies  between  the  Hudson 


TllU.    "JUhHD  RING." 


42; 


and  Missouri  rivers  have  at  some   time   been   iiis  clients.     In   this   practice   he 
acquired  both  extensive  fame  and  a  hirti^e  fortune'. 

Hut  it  was  as  a  reformer  in  pohtics   that  Mr.  Tilden  acquired  his  greatest 


Till':    SIAITK   (IF    l.inKlilY    IN    MAV    VuKK     IIAKIUpR 


and  most  lasting;  fame.  In  1S69  the  "  Twc-ed  rinq- "  of  thieves  and  adventurers 
had  secured  the  absolute  control  of  Xew  York  city.  To  illustrate  their  power 
over  the  city  finances,  it  may  be  mentioned  that  at  one  meetinir  of  the  Board  of 
Special  Audit,  three  men  ordered  the  payment  of  over  six  million  dollars,  hardly 


428 


SAAfUHL  J.   Tlf.DHX. 


ten  [HIT  cent,  ofwhicli  in  value  was  realized  !))■  the  city.  Nearly  fifteen  millions 
of  dollars  in  fraudulcMit  bills  aj^ainst  the  city  were;  jjaid  in  a  sinj^le  day  !  1  he 
thieives  had  so  st:curely  intrenched  themselves  that  they  defied  any  one  to  dis- 
lodije  them.  "  What  are  you  !L,foin(r  to  do  about  it.^  "  was  Twet^tl's  famous  reply 
to  criticism. 

iiut  there  was  one  man  who  knew  what  to  do  about  it.  A  combination  of 
citizens  was  formed  to  attack  the'  rini^,  and  to  this  work  Mr.  Tilden  i^ave  his 
best  powers,  l^y  obtaining;  from  banks  thi;  checks  which  had  been  paid,  and 
comparing"  them  with  accounts  in  the  Comptroller's  office,  he  was  able  to  lay  bare 
iJie  details  of  the  conspiracy.     Me  proved  that  two-thirds  of  the  whole  amount 


OENERAI.    VIEW   OF   THE   NEW   YORK    CETV    HAM,. 


of  bills  audited  had  been  divided  among  public  officers  and  their  accomplices, 
and  was  able  to  show  what  amount  of  public  plunder  was  in  the  hands  of  each. 
With  the  proofs  thus  furnished  the  riny^  was  at  leny^th  broken  up,  its  power 
destroyed,  and  the  most  prominent  of  the  thieves  brought  to  justice.  Tweed 
tied  to  luiro|)e,  was  brought  back,  and  died  miserably  in  prison. 

In  consequence  largely  of  Tilden's  good  work  in  the  overthrow  of  the 
Tweed  ring,  he  was  elected,  in  1874,  Governor  of  New  York.  In  this  position 
he  soon  found  work  ready  to  his  hand  in  the  exposure  and  overthrow  of  the 
"Canal  ring,"  a  body  of  corrupt  men  who  had  secured  control  of  the  \ir\it  and 
Champlain  canals,  and  by  a  system  of  immense  expenditures  and  false  accounts 


THE  DISPUThD  liLECTlOW  429 

had  rol)b(;(l  tlu^  State  of  larj^'e  sums.  Tildcii's  viLjoroiis  efforts  resulted  in  over- 
throu'iiii^  the  riii]^,  recov(!rin!L,''  lariat-  aiiKiuiUs  of  stolen  money,  aiul  compI"tcny 
reforming  the  whole  system  of  canal  atlministration  and  managemtMit. 

Tilden  had  now  gained  a  most  (unviable  po  'tion.  Hy  liis  i^reat  reforms  he 
had  overthrown  two  powerful  "rinLjs,"  had  reduced  State  taxation  ni-ariy  one- 
half  and  as  Governor  of  the  j^^reatest  State  of  tlu-  Union  he  stood  at  the  head 
of  the  Democratic  party,  witn  a  national  fame  as  a  reformer  and  a  stat(;sman. 
It  was  natural  that,  in  1876,  all  ey(;s  shoukl  have  turneil  to  him  as  the  man  to 
head  the  Democratic  ticket  in  the  comint^  election.  He  was  nominated  by  the 
Democratic  National  Convention  at  St.  Louis  in  June,  1876,  amid  great  enthu- 
siasm. 

The  campaign  of  1S76  was  most  ably  conductetl.  Mr.  Tilden  l)rought  into 
the  contest  his  unsurpassed  sagacity  and  shrewdness  as  a  political  manager, 
and  the  result  was  astounding  to  his  op|)onents.  b'or  some  days  after  the  elec- 
tion there  seemed  no  doubt  of  his  complete  triumph.  Hut  soon  it  appeared 
that  in  the  .States  of  Louisiana,  .South  Carolina,  ami  Morida,  where  the  colored 
vote  was  a  ])rincipal  factor,  the  result  was  disputed.  If  the  Republican  candi- 
date secured  all  of  these  three  .States  it  would  give  him  1S5  electoral  votes,  or 
just  one  more  than  Mr.  Tilden  would  have.  It  soon  became  evident  that  tluTe 
would  be  two  sets  of  returns  from  these  States,  ami  then  the  cpiestion  would 
be,  Which  set  shall  be  receivetl  ami  counted?  The  .Senate  was  Republican,  the 
House  Democratic.  I'^ither  House  could,  by  objecting  to  a  return,  put  a  stop 
to  the  count  before  Congress,  and  thus  the  country  would  drift  on  into  anarchy. 
The  excitement  was  intense,  b'inally,  it  v/as  proposed  to  establish  an  I'Llectoral 
Commission  of  fifteen  members, — three  Republican  and  two  Democratic  sena- 
tors, three  Democratic  and  two  Republican  representatives,  and  five  justices 
of  the  Supreme  Court,  two  of  whom  shoukl  be  Republican  and  two  Democratic  ; 
and  these  fourteen  members  were  to  choose  the  fifteenth,  who,  it  was  expected, 
would  be  Judge  Daviil  Davis,  of  Illinois,  who  was  classed  as  an  indepemlent. 
Thus  the  commission  would  be  evenly  divided  politically,  and  yet  thcM^e  could 
be  no  tie.  To  this  commission  was  to  be  submitted  the  returns  froni  any  dis- 
puted State,  and  their  decision  was  to  be  final. 

In  spite  of  opposidon,  the  bill  creating  the  commission  was  passed  ;  and 
then  occurred  one  of  the  trifling  accidents  which  sometimes  decide  the  fate  of 
nations.  Judge  Davis  was  elected  to  the;  Senate,  and  resigned  from  the  .SuprcMiie 
bench.  He  was  thus  disqualified  to  sit  on  the  commission,  and  Justice  l)radley, 
a  Republican,  was  chosen  the  fifteenth  member.  In  every  case  of  dispute,  the 
commission  decided  by  a  party  vote — eight  to  seven — to  count  the  Republican 
returns.  The  three  doubtful  States  were  thus  all  given  to  the  Republican  can- 
didate. The  count  was  completed  only  two  days  before  March  4th  ;  and  thus, 
by  the  narrowest  possible  majority,  Mr.  Hayes  was  seated  in  the  executive  chair. 


430 


SAMC'EL  J.   TII.DRN. 


Never  (.liil  Mr.  Tildcn  ap|)i':ir  to  better  advantage  than  during  this  exciting 
contest.  He  was  entirely  convinced  of  his  election  ;  he  had  millions  of  sup- 
porters ;  a  word  from  him  would  have  precipitated  anarchy.     It  is  to  his  lasting 

honor  that,   at  that  critic. .(   mo- 
ment,   his    every   word   and    act 
was   such  as  to  preserve   peace* 
and  onler,  even  at  the  expense 
of  the  Presidency. 

After  the  contest  of  1S76, 
Mr.  Tilden  retired  from  public 
life.  In  both  1880  and  1884  the 
greatest  pressure  was  brought 
upon  him  to  again  acce|>t  the 
nomination  for  the  Presidency ; 
but  this  he  firmly  resisted,  main- 
taining that  by  long  and  arduous 
service  he  had  earned  the  right 
to  retirement.  The  last  work 
of  his  life  was  a  plan  for  a  great 
public  library,  to  found  which  he 
left  by  his  will  the  bulk  of  his 
large  fortune.  His  beneficent 
design  was  frustrated,  however, 
by  legal  (laws  in  his  will,  which 
his  relations  successfully  con 
tested,  thus  depriving  him  of  the  monument  which  his  noble  purpose  and  use 
ful  life  deserved.     He  died  in  Xew  York  on  August  4,  1886. 


Kl'llllM  lUih    lilKCIlARl)    IIAYfS. 


>-'», 


JAMES   G.   BLAINE, 


THEi    BRILLIA-NT    A.NU    SUCCliSSKUL,    STATESMAN. 


/^^■M^-"""^       ^^  close  of  the  o^reat  civil  war  of  iS6i  marked  a  new  era 
\n^^         ^^-jj*S^^      in  American  politics.     The  nation  which  was  then  restored 

to  the  people  was  a  new  nation.      T'reed  from  the  blight 
of  slavery,  the  country  beg-an  to  grow  antl  ex[)and  with  a 
rapidity  which  was  absolutely  startling.     The  South  and 
West  especially  moved  forward  with  giant  strides.     The 
permanence  of  the  government  being  assured,  the  ques- 
tions of  the  hour  became  those  of  reconstruction  and  paci- 
fication,  of  the  rights  of  the  freedmen,  of  internal  peace 
and  security,   of  foreign  and  domestic  commerce,  of  tariffs 
and  finance.     Of  the  many  able  men  who  won  their  fame  in 
the   period   since  the    war,    there   is   none    more    prominent   nor  more   widely 
admired  and  beloved  than  James  G.  Blaine. 

Two  States  of  the  Union  claim  Hlaine  as  a  son.  During  most  of  his  man- 
hood and  later  life  he  lived  in  Maine  ;  but  he  was  born  in  Washington  county, 
Pennsylvania,  and  the  latter  State  always  cherished  for  him  the  warmest  affec- 
tion, giving  him  in  the  presidential  election  of  1884  a  popular  majority  unprece- 
dented in  the  history  t)f  the  State.  He  was,  however,  familiarly  known  as 
"  The  Man  from  Maine,"  and  by  that  name  will  live  in  the  memory  of  the 
people  with  that  other  great  leader,  Henry  Clay,  with  whom  he  has  often  been 
compared.  1  lis  life  began  on  January  31,  1830.  Mis  father,  I'^ihraim  P)laine, 
was  a  farmer  and  justice  of  the  [leace,  whose  fortunes  had  Ix'come  iin[)aired  by 
too  generous  living  ami  lack  of  thrift.  James  was  a  healthy,  hai)py,  intelligent 
boy,  showing,  even  in  early  childhood,  some  of  tin;  traits  which  afterward  dis- 
tinguished him  as  a  man.  I  lis  courage  and  pugnacity  are  illustrated  by  a  story 
told  of  him  at  that  time.  A  wi;ll  was  being  dug  near  the  house,  and  little 
James,  then  three  or  four  years  okl,  was  led  by  curiosity  to  lean  over  and  pe(T 
down  into  the  "big  hole."  One  of  the  workmen,  fearing  that  he  would  fall  in, 
tried  to  frighten  him  away  by  making  faces  and  glaring  at  him,  and  making 
threatening  gestures  with  a  shovel.  Hut  little  Jim  was  not  so  easily  scared. 
To  him   it  was  a  case   for  fighting,  not  for  running.     Picking  up  clods  from 

4jj 


434 


JAMES  G.  BLAINE. 


the  heap  of  dirt  by  the  well,  he  bewail  to  heave  them  in  upon  the  enemy.  This 
vio;orous  bomixirthnent  was  more  than  the  workman  had  bargained  ("or  ;  he  feared 
that  stones  would  follow  next,  and  called  for  help.  The  boy's  mother  heard 
him,  and  came  and  led  the  puy^nacious  little  fellow  away. 

When  l^laine  was  about  eleven,  he  lived  for  a  time  at  Lancaster,  Ohio,  with 
his  uncle,  Thomas  Ewini;.  then  Secretary  of  the  Treasury, — the  same  larce- 
hearted  statesman  who  a  few  years  before  had  taken  into  his  family  younor 
William  T.  Sherman,  the  boy  who  was  to  become  one  of  the  great  generals  of 
the   civil   war.      Mr.  liwing's  home  was  a   resort  of  statesmen  and  politicians, 


lU.AINi;  S    r.lRTill'I.ACK,    WKST    I1R(  IWN.iVI  I.I.K, 


and  in  that  atmosphere  no  doubt  the  mind  o'f  young  Blaine  received  a  strong 
impulse  toward  a  political  career. 

In  1.S43  he  returned  to  his  father's  liome,  and  entered  Washington  College, 
at  Washington,  Pennsylvania.  He  was  an  ardent  student,  and  made  rapid 
{)rogress.  Logic  and  mathematics  were  his  favorite  studies,  but  he  also  delighti'd 
in  history  and  literature.  He  was  always  a  leader  aniong  the  boys,  especially 
in  debate.  It  is  relatetl  that  on  one  occasion,  \\hen  he  was  ambitious  to  be 
elected  president  of  the  literary  society,  he  committed  "  Cushing's  Manual"  to 
memory  in  one  e\ening,  in  order  to  qualify  himself  on  parliamentary  practice. 
He  had  also  a  strong  love  for  history,  and  it  is  said  that  he  could  recite  from 
memory  many  of  the  chapters  in  "  Plutarch's  Lives." 


KHMOVAL   TO  MA/XE.  435 

From  \Vashii\L,^ton  Collej^e  Mr.  Blaine  went  to  lUue  Lick  Sprinj^'-s,  Ken- 
tucky, where  he  became  a  teacher  in  the  Western  Military  Institute,  in  which 
there  were  about  450  boys.  A  retired  army  officer,  who  was  a  student  there, 
relates  that  Mr.  Blaine  was  a  thin,  handsome,  earnest  youni;-  man,  with  the 
same  fascinating-  manners  that  were  characteristic  of  him  throuij;hout  his  whole 
career.  He  was  popular  with  the  boys,  who  trusted  him  and  mach;  friends  with 
him  from  the  tu'st.  1  le  knew  the  full  name  of  evc!ry  one,  and  discerned  his 
shortcomings  and  his  strongs  points.  While  teachini;- here,  Mr.  Blaine  met  Miss 
Harriet  .Stanwootl,  who  belonij^ed  to  an  e.xcellent  Maine  family,  and  a  few 
months  afterward  they  were:  married. 

In  1851  Mr.  B)laine  returned  to  Pennsylvania,  brin^ini!^  with  him  an  intense 
hatred  of  slavery,  which  greatly  intluenced  his  future  career,  (iomg  to  Phila- 
delphia, he  became  a  teacher  In  the  Pennsylvania  Institution  for  tht;  Instruction 
of  the  Blind.  There  he  had  charge  of  the  higher  classes  in  literature  and 
science.  An  interesting  memorial  of  his  work  in  Philadelphia  is  still  to  be  seen, 
in  the  shape  of  the  journal  of  the  institution,  which  l)ears  the  inscription  : — 

JOL'RXAL 

111'   iiii-; 

PHXX.SVLVAXIA   IXSTITUTION 

FOH    Till-, 

IX.STRLXTIOX   OI'    THE   BLIXD, 

FKdM    ITS    rorNDAl'IUN. 


CoMI'I  I.F.I)    I'koM    Ol-FK  I.\l,    Ri:C0RDS 

liV 

J.\MI-:.S  G.    P>LAIXE, 

1S54. 

After  two  years  work  in  teaching  the  l)lintl,  Mr.  Blaine  yielded  to  liis  wife's 
desire  that  he  should  make  Maine  his  home.  The  young  couple  moved,  in  1853, 
to  Augusta.  In  the  following  year  Mr.  Blaine  entered  into  partnership  with 
Joseph  Baker,  a  prominent  lawyer  of  Augusta,  and  together  they  purchased 
The  Kennebec  Journal,  of  which  Mr.  lUaine  at  once  Ixx-ame  the  editor,  his  ready 
intelligence  and  trenchant  st>'le  being  peculiarly  ailapted  to  this  field.  77ie 
Jonrna/  \\a^  a  weekly  paper,  one  of  the  organs  of  the  Whig  party,  and  exer- 
cised considerable  political  influence.  Mr.  Blaine  speedily  made  his  impress, 
and  within  three  years  he  was  a  master  spirit  in  die  politics  of  the  .State. 

WHien  the  old  Whig  party  went  to  pieces,  Mr.  Blaine  joinetl  hands  with 
Governor  Anson  P.  Morrill  in  organizing  the  Republican  party  in  the;  Pine  Tree 
State.  He  entered  into  this  work  with  all  his  energy,  and  his  earnest  and 
incisive  discussion  in.  The  JoHrnai  of  the  rising-  conllict  between   freedom  and 


436 


JAMES  G.  BLAINE. 


slavery  attracted  wide  attention.  In  1S56  he  was  a  delct^ate  to  the  first  Repub- 
lican National  Convention,  held  in  Philatlelphia,  which  nominated  General  l'"re- 
niontfor  Presitlent.  (Jn  his  return  homt;  he  made  a  report  at  a  pul)lic  meeting-. 
His  speech  on  this  occasion,  be^jun  with  hesitation  and  emlxirrassment,  but 
advancing-  to  confident  and  fervid  utterance,  first  illustrated  his  capacity  on 
the  platform,  and  <,rave  him  standini;^^  as  a  public  speaker. 

In  1858  Hlaine  was  elected  to  the   Maine   I  louse  of  Representatives,  and 
re-elected  in  1859  and  i860.     Uurin*,^  the  last  two  years  he  was  chosen  Speaker 


SCIIildl.    IIorsK,    IIROWNSVIM  r..    I'A.,    WHI-RF,    MR.    lU.AINE    liF.C.AN    lUS    KIU'CATION. 


of  the  House,  and  there  began  his  training  for  the  higher  post  in  Congress 
which  the  future  held  for  him.  He  distinguished  himself  both  on  the  iloor  and 
in  the  chair.  He  was  a  hard  worker,  a  fine  speaker,  and  a  dignified  and  im- 
partial presiding  officer.  He  became  very  popular  in  his  State,  and  was  seen 
to  be  a  "  rising  man." 

In  i860  Mr.  Hlaine  was  a  delegate  to  the  memorable  convention  at  Chicago 
which  nominated  Abraham  Lincoln  for  the  presidency  ;  and  when  he  returned, 
he  took  an  active;  part  in  the  campaign.  He  was  in  great  demand  in  his  own 
State   as    a   political    speaker.     Whenever   a    call  was  made    upon  the  State 


HIS  COXGRESSIONAL  CAR/iER.  437 

Committee  for  hel[)  in  a  local  contcist,  the  tlemaml  was  almost  sure  to  be,  "Send 
us   Hlaine  !" 

In  1S62  Blaine  was  elected  a  member  of  the  famous  Thirtv-eiL'hth  Con- 
jrress  ;  and  then  be^an  that  Ioiil;"  career  in  th<;  national  lei^Mslature  which  made 
him  one  of  the  best  known  and  most  ])()|)uhu"  public  men  of  the  I  nitctl  States. 
He  took  his  seat  in  1X03,  in  the  midst  of  the  civil  war.  1  b;  was  a  strong-  admirer 
and  earnest  supporter  of  th(;  ^reat  President,  who  depiinded  upon  him  for 
confidential  information  and  aid  re^ardin^;'  his  own  State.  In  the  I'resitlential 
election  of  1S64,  which  for  a  time  was  \ery  doubtful,  Lincoln  sent  IJlaine  on  a 
special  mission  to  Maine,  to  ascertain  if  there  was  any  adverse  moxcment  there. 
As  far  back  as  1S5.S,  at  the  time  of  tin;  Doutjlas  debates,  P)laine  had  prophi'sicd 
in  his  paper  that  Douglas  would  beat  Lincoln  in  that  contest,  but  that  Lincoln 
would  defeat  Douglas  for  the  Presidency  in  i860.  This  prophecy,  copied  in 
Illinois  papers,  was  noticed  by  Lincoln,  who  cut  it  out  and  kept  it  in  his  mem- 
orandum book  until  long  after.  It  naturally  led  to  a  confidential  friendship 
between  the  two  men.  The  election  of  1S64  resulted  in  the  re-election  of 
Blaine  to  Congress,  and  he  took  a  prominent  part  in  the  difficult  legislation  of 
the  "  reconstruction  era,"  and  the  stormy  times  which  followed  tlu;  war. 

In  1.S69,  Schuyler  Colfa.x,  who  had  been  elected  Vice-President,  was  thus 
transferred  to  the  Senate  chamber,  and  Blaine  was  chosen  to  su_cce(;d  him  as 
Speaker  of  the  House,  and  was  re-elected  in  1S71  and  1873.  He  was  one  of 
the  most  popular  officers  who  ever  filled  that  e.xacting  position,  beir-^-  elected 
for  each  of  his  three  terms  without  opposition.  He  was  always  courteous  and 
fair,  and  especially  cpiick  in  the  discharge  oi  his  functions.  It  was  one  of  the 
sights  of  the  time  for  visitors  to  watch  Mr.  Blaine  facing  a  standing  House  to 
count  the  ayes  and  noes.  With  the  head  of  his  gavel  clasped  in  his  right  hand, 
using  the  handle  as  a  pointer,  he  swept  it  from  right  to  left  so  rapidly  that  it 
was  hardly  possible  to  believe  that  he  had  counted  the  throng  correctly  ;  but  if 
his  announcement  of  the  vote  was  disputed,  the  count  of  the  tellers  always 
verified  his  declaration. 

By  the  election  in  1874  the  Democrats  secured  a  majority  in  the  House  of 
Representatives,  and  of  course  Mr.  Blaine's  term  as  .Speaker  came;  to  an  end. 
This  election  really  marked  a  new  period  in  political  history.  During  the  civil 
war  and  the  years  following  it,  the  Republican  party  had  held  almost  undis- 
puted supremacy.  It  had  re-established  the  power  of  the  national  government, 
had  freed  the  negro,  and  had  secured  the  atloption  of  the  amendments  to  the 
Constitution.  But  its  long  lease  of  power  had  brought  about  the  inevitable 
result.  Base  men  had  attached  themselves  to  the  party  for  corrupt  purposes, 
and  tried  to  shield  themselves  under  the  cloak  of  patriotism  antl  loyalty  to  the 
Union.  When  threatened  with  exposure  and  punishment,  such  mem  of  course 
sought  to  make  the  party  responsible  for  their  deeds,  and  to  involve  it  in  the. 


438 


JAMES  G.  nLMNE. 


consGf[uenci;s.  The  n;sult  was  ihc  "  (.-ra  of  scamlal  "  of  Grant's  secontl  atlminis- 
tration,  when  the  "CretHt  .MobiH(;r,"  the  "Whiskey  Rinj:^- "  frauds,  and  the 
Belknap  episode  were  Ijroui^ht  to  li.^ht.  A  passion  lor  '•  iin(;sti*,^ation  "  fol- 
lowed, livery  prominent  public  man  who  manifested  any  unwillinq'ness  to  have 
his  privates  affairs  made;  public  fell  under  suspicion.  Mr.  I  Maine  was  too  shining 
a  mark  to  hv.  missed.  1  le  was  accused  of  having'  been  brilnxl  with  a  L;iit  of 
Little  Rock  and  I'ort  .Smith  railroad  bonds,  by  the  I'nion  I'acific  Railroad  Com- 
pany, when  Spcak<.r  of  the  House,  to  ,i;'ive  a  tlecision  tavorinq' that  company. 
He  was  accused  of  stealint^''  leltt.-rs — his  own  letters — which  would  ha\e  incrim 
inateil  him  ;  and  for  years  he  was  pursued  with  charges  of  various  sorts  of  cor 


m^- 


w  A^iiiN',  i' iN   .•,:■  |.  ji  :  :  I  k-iiN  C'iii,i.i-.(,i-;,  \VA^l{l^l.^M^.    \\. 

ruption.  These  charq-cs  he  completely  disproved  on  the  floor  of  the  Mouse, 
showini^r  that  he  had  bouij^ht  the  bonds,  and  had  lost  over  ^20,000  by  their 
purchase.     After  meetini^  and  disproving;  the  slantlers  ac^ainst  him,  he  saitl : — 

"  1  lavini;  now  noticed  the  two  char!j;-es  that  have  been  so  extensively  circu- 
lated, I  shall  refrain  from  calling-  the  attention  of  the  House  to  any  others  that 
may  iKMUvcntcd.  '\o  quote  the  lant;ua<;(;  of  another,  'I  do  not  propose  to 
make  my  public  life  a  perpetual  and  uncomfortable  dea-hunt,  in  the  vain  (efforts 
to  run  down  stories  which  have  no  basis  in  truth,  which  are  usually  anonymous, 
and  whose;  total  refutation  brings  no  punishment  to  those  who  have  been 
guilty  of  originating  them.'  " 


/xg/-:rsi  u./:s  speI'.ch. 


439, 


The  first  charj^e  a^^aiiist  him,  however,  served  its  purpose.  It  was  inatie  a 
short  time  before  the  R(.'publican  convention  of  1S76,  when  Blaine  was  th(;  most 
prominent  candidate  for  lh(;  Presidential  nomination.  I'Or  s(n(;ral  weeks  Mr. 
Blaine  was  kept  busy,  muler  the  pressure  of  e.xcitement,  repc^liin^-  the  attacks 
upon  him,  and  at  the  same  time  attend ini;- to  his  public  duties.  ( )n(;  intcMisely  hot 
Sunday  in  June,  three  days  before  the  mc't'tinu-  of  the  convention,  while  on  his  way 
to  church,  he  suffered  a  sunstroke,  and  for  some  days  was  i^Teatly  prostrated. 
This  and  th(;  various  changes  which  had  been  brought  were  mailc  use  ofai^^ainst 
him  before  the  convention.  Nevertheless,  his  vote  sfxvw  st(;adily  lari^-er  until 
the  very  end,  and  he  was  only  defeat(;d  by  a  combination  of  all  the  other 
delegates  upon  Hayes,  on  the  fmal  ballot,  which  stood,  Hayes  384,  Blaine 
351,  and   Bristow  2  i. 

One  of  the  episodes  which  made  the  con- 
vention of  1S76  memorable  was  the  speech 
of  Robert  (j.  Inyersoll,  made  in  presenting 
Blaine's  name  as  a  candidate.  'Jhe  vast  audi- 
ence was  stirred  to  the  highest  pitch  of  enthu- 
siasm by  IngersoU's  vindication  of  the  great 
leader.  Referring  to  Blaine's  dramatic  defense 
and  his  sudden  attack  on  his  accusers,  on  the 
floor  of  Congress,  Ingersoll  said  : — 

"  I, ike  an  armed  warrior,  like  a  |jliinie(l  knight,  James 
G.  Blaine  marched  down  the  halls  ol"  the  American  Con- 
gress and  threw  his  shining  lance  full  and  fair  against  the 
brazen  forehead  of  the  defaniers  of  iiis  country  and  the 
maligncrs  of  his  honor.  For  the  Republican  party  to 
desert  this  gallant  leader  now  is  as  though  an  army  should 
desert  their  general  upon  the  field  of  battle." 


CKliKiil.    V.    l,liMrN:),> 


This  speech  gave  to   Blaine   the  title  of 
the  "Plumed  Knight," — a  name  which  citing  to  him  to  the  end  of  his  life. 

The  winter  of  1876-77  was  tht;  time  of  the;  great  struggle  ovtn-  the  ilis- 
puted  election,  which  was  finally  settled  by  the  creation  of  the  bHectoral 
Commission.  Mr.  Blaine  was  not  in  favor  of  the  commission,  bt^lieving  that 
the  regular  machinery  of  government  was  ade(niat(;  to  mvxiX.  the  situation  ;  but 
he  did  not  strongly  oppose  it,  and  rejoiced  at  the  peaceful  settliMiient  of  the 
contest. 

During  the  winter  Blaine  was  elected  to  the  I'nitt'd  States  .Senate  by  the 
Legislature  of  Maine,  by  a  unanimous  vote.  This  unpr(,'cedentt;d  honor,  in 
which  his  political  opponents  in  the  Legislature  all  joined,  show(;d  what  had 
been  the  effect  of  the  slanders  against  him  upon  those  who  knt.'w  him  best.  He 
took  his  seat  in  the  Senate  at  the  special  session  called  in  October,  1877. 
26 


440 


JAXfliS  C    lU.AIMi. 


As  tlic  close  of  1  laycs'  adiniiiistration  approached,  it  became  evident  that 
Blaine  wonld  ajj^ain  he  a  leading  candidate  tor  the  I'rc^sidential  nomination.  It 
was  in  this  yitar  that  the  famous  effort  was  math;  by  the  supporters  of  (i(Mieral 
Cirant  to  nominate  him  for  a  third  term.  Mr.  Iilaine  was  the  most  prominent 
can(,lidat(-  in  o])position  to  (Irant  ;  but  beside  him  ther(Mvere  .Sherman,  I'ldmunds, 
fand  W'ashburiU',  who  had  considerabh;  streni^th.  '\\\v  proceedings  of  that 
memorable  convention,  resultini:^"  in  the  nomination  of  (iarfield,  are  more  fully 
told  elsewhere.  (S(;e  I,\Mi:s  A.  ( i.\Ki  ii:i  i>.)  P)lain<;  became  (larli(;ld's  .Secre- 
tary of  .State,  upon  his  inauj^uration  in  March,  iSSi. 

Almost  imiiKidiately  upon 
the;  accession  of  the  new  atlmin- 
istration  the  famous  contest  ovct 
the  t^ovcTiiment  patronage  in 
N(;w  \'ork  beL;an,  and  did  not 
c.w^.  until  after  that  fatal  day  of 
July  2,  i8Si,  when  the  bullet  of 
tht;  assassin  laid  (Iarfield  low. 
Durinjj^  the  lonL,^  hot  days  of 
that  weary  summer,  IJlaine's  bur- 
den was  heavy  and  hartl  to  bear. 
The  PresicU-nt's  disability  threw 
much  e.xtra  work  upon  the  Sec- 
retary of  .State,  and  when  at  last 
the:  tlrania  closed  at  the  tomb  of 
(Iarfield  in  Clevelantl,  Blaine  was 
much  worn  down,  1  ie  continued 
in  office  for  a  time,  however,  at 
President  Arthur's  retpiest,  and 
in  order  to  accc^mplish  a  j^reat 
measure  on  which  he  had  set  his 
heart.  This  was  the  inviting-  of 
all  the  AmtM'ican  Republics  to  join  in  a  Peace  Con<;ress  at  Washington,  for 
the  purpose  of  sircMi^tluMiino-  amicable  relations,  and  especially  to  establish  a 
tribunal  of  arbitration  for  th(!  settlement  of  tlisputes  without  war.  Differences 
of  opinion,  however,  separated  him  from  thf;  administration,  and  in  December, 
1 88 1,  Mr.  Blaine  resigned  his  portfolio  and  retired  to  private  life. 

On  b'ebruary  27,  1882,  Blaine  di;livered  in  the  hall  of  the  House  of  Rep- 
resentatives his  irreat  eulogy  upon  President  Garfield,  one  of  the  finest  and 
most  pathetic  orations  ever  heard  within  that  Chamber.  'Phe  audience  assem- 
bled comprised  the  members  of  l)oth  Houses  of  Congress,  the  President 
and  his   Cabinet,   the  Supreme  Court,   the  representatives  of  fore.jon  govern- 


GROVF.R    CI.KVKI.ANI). 


JUS  lin.oay  o\  carI'Ii.ld. 


4^1 


m(Mits,  and  irrcat  minibcrs  of  distinguished  men  and  womkmi.  It  was  a  Ijcautiful 
winter  day ;  business  houses  iiverywhere  were  closetl,  and  all  ihrouj^di  the 
morning  hours  thronijs  of  people  traversed  the  avenues  conve-rL^ini;  on  the 
Capitol.  The;  touchiniL,^  words  in  which  he  bore  tribute?  to  his  tl;;ad  fritnui  were 
listened  to  with  breathless  attention  by  the  threat  throng-  which  filled  the  house, 
and  wluMi  he  pronounced  that  passat^e  of  sublinu;  beauty  with  which  tlu;  oration 
closet!,  the  solemn  hush  which  fell  upon  the  threat  asst^nibly  deep(;ned  the 
imjiresslon  felt  by  <;v(M-y  one  present,  that  he  had  listened  to  one  of  the  greatest 
oratorical  efforts  of  history. 


TlfF.    IlIAINK    RF/^IPFNTR    AT   AUfiUSTA,   MAINE. 


When  the  Republican  National  Convention  of  1X84  met,  lUaine's  nomina 
tion  was  almost  a  foregone  conclusion.  The  only  prominent  candidate  beside 
niaine  was  President  Arthur,  whose  administration  had  been  so  acceptable  to 
the  country  as  to  produce  a  considerable  movement  in  his  favor.  On  the  fourth 
ballot,  however,  Blaine  was  triumphantly  nominated.  Ceneral  John  A.  Logan 
was  nominated  for  Vice-President,  and  the  convention  adjourned. 

Into  the  campaign  of  1884   Hlaine  threw  himself  with  intense  enthusiasm. 
Strong  efforts  were  made  to  defeat  him  tipon  personal  grounds.     These  ques- 


442 


JAMES  C.  BLAINE. 


tioiis  he  refused  to  discuss,  throw! iiil,''  liis  whole;  streMit^^th  into  the  issues  of  the 
campaij^ni.  I  i(;  took  stroin^'  i^rouiul  in  f;ivor  of  protc^ction,  ;uul  \w\\(\v.  that  (jues- 
tion  tile  chief  basis  of  his  argument.  It  is  nearly  certain  that  he  would  have 
been  triumphantly  elected  l)ut  for  an  accident  occurrin*,^  at  the  eleventh  liour, 
which  no  cart;  could  possibly  have  foreseen  or  provided  a_L,fainst.  '1  his  is  what 
has  |)assed  into  history  as  the  "  Burchard  incident."  In  the  last  week  of  the 
campai_<i;'n,  Mr,  Blaine;  was  visited  at  his  hot(;l  by  a  lafjL;'-  <,fatherin<^r  of  clerj^rymen 
of  different  denominations,  who  asseml)led  for  the  purpose  of  niakiuL^-  a  formal 
address  to  him.     After  adopting-  resolutions  statin*,^  their  reasons  for  supportinj^ 

Mr.  Blaine,  a  committee  was 
appointed  to  introduce  him  to 
the  meetini^.  The  entire  body 
of  cler<;ymen  went  out  into  the 
main  corridor  of  the  hot(;l,  and 
presently  Mr.  Blaine  came  down 
the  stairway  on  the  arm  of  Dr. 
King,  with  his  wife  and  daugh- 
ters. He  stopped  a  few  steps 
from  the  foot  of  the  stairway, 
and  the  Rev.  Dr.  Burchard  ap- 
proached, addressing  him  as  fol- 
lows : — 

"We  arc  very  happy  to  welcome 
you  to  tliis  city.  You  see  here  a  rc])re- 
sentation  of  all  denominations  of  this 
city.  You  see  the  large  number  that  are 
represented.  We  are  your  friends,  Mr. 
Blaine,  and,  notwithstanding  all  the  cal- 
iminies  that  have  been  urged  in  the 
papers  against  you,  we  stand  by  your 
side.  (Shouts  of  '  Amen.')  We  ex])ect 
to  vote  for  you  next  Tuesday.  We  have 
higher  expectations,  which  are  that  you  will  be  the  President  of  the  United  States,  and  that  you 
will  do  honor  to  your  name,  to  the  Ihiited  States,  and  to  the  high  office  \(ju  w  ill  occujiy.  We  are 
Republicans,  and  don't  propose  to  lea\e  our  ])artv  and  identify  ourselves  with  the  party  whose  ante- 
cedents have  been  Rum,  Romanism,  and  Rebellion.    We  are  loyal  to  our  flag.   We  are  loyal  to  you." 

Mr.  Biu'chard's  alliterative  phrase  of  "Rum,  Romanism,  and  Rebellion" 
accomplished  Mr.  Blaine's  defeat.  His  words  were  immediately  taken  up  by 
the  Democrats,  who  saw  in  them  the;  opportunity  to  defeat  Mr.  Blaine.  They 
were  industriously  circulated  among  members  of  the  Catholic  Church  every- 
where, as  indicating  the  hatred  of  Mr.  Blaine  to  members  of  that  communion. 
The  result  was  to  give  Mr.  Cleveland  the  State  of  New  York  by  only  lOOO 


ri-.N.TAMIN    HARRISON. 


Tin-  IIARRISON-CLI-.VFJ..\\'n  CAMIWIGX.  443 

majority.  Mr.  IMaiiiii  rcccivcil  182  electoral  votes,  and  Mr.  C'lcvtlaiid  J19.  If 
the  vote  of  New  \'ork  alone  had  been  rcversiul,  th(;  rcsiiU  would  luvvi.'  htcii  to 
elect  Mr.  Blaine  by  21S  votes  to  1S3  for  .Mr.  Cleveland. 

Duriiii^'  Mr.  Cleveland's  administration  Mr.  Blaine  ri'Miaineil  in  private  life. 
Some  of  his  time  was  s|)ent  in  literary  work  and  some  in  lun'opean  travel.  1  le 
t')ok  a  keen  interest  in  political  allairs,  and  fre(pii,-ntly  e\|)ressed  his  views  on 
the  issues  of  the  day  through  tJK;  public  press;  but  he  had  now  made  up  his 
mind  that  he  would  ne\er  aj.jain  be  a  candidate  for  the  I'ri-sidency,  and  he  made 
this  inttMition  cK;ar  to  the  succeedim^-  conventions  of  tlu;  Repni)lican  "  irty,  where 
a  stronu^  desire  for  his  canditlacy  still  existed.  Om;  of  his  most  n-markable 
utterances  was  made  in  reply  to  Presitlent  Cleveland's  iiu^ssaiL^i:  to  Con^-ress,  in 
December,  1SS7.  In  this  messa^je  Mr.  Cle\-eland  took  strong- i^romvl  in  faxor 
of  tariff  reform  and  frt^er  trade.  .\11  other  interests  were  entirely  ignored,  and 
the  messaije  confmed  to  this  one  point.  Its  effect  was  trementlous.  It  was 
res^arded  as  the  platform  on  which  Mr.  Cle\eland  would  appeal  for  re-election 
in  the  followinLC  year.  The  Republicans  receivetl  the  messaj^e  with  e^n-at  satis- 
faction, for  the  tariff  was  the  very  issue  on  which  they  were  most  anxious  to 
flight  the  next  campaij^n.  Mr.  lilaine  was  at  the  time  in  Paris.  .\n  ai)stract  of 
the  President's  messa<j;e  was  published  in  the  I-au'opean  newspapers  the  morn 
\\\<^  after  its  delivery,  and  in  the  form  of  an  interview  Mr.  Blaine  made,  in  Paris, 
a  full  reply  to  President  Cleveland's  message,  in  which  he  supported  the  pro- 
tection view  as  opposed  to  that  of  free  trade.  These  two  documents  w<,'re,  in 
reality,  the  platform  upon  which  the  contest  of  1888  was  foui^ht.  Mr.  Blaine 
declined  a  nomination  so  positively  as  to  leave  no  doubt  of  his  intention,  and 
gave  Mr.  Harrison  substantial  aid  in  the  campaign.  The  result  was  Mr.  I  larri- 
son's  triumphant  election  ;  and  on  his  accession  to  office,  Mr.  Blaine  a  second 
time  took  the  post  of  Secretary  of  State,  and  proceeded  to  carry  out  the  policy 
which  had  been  interruptetl  eight  years  before  by  the  death  of  President 
Garfield. 

Mr.  Blaine  took  an  active  part  during  President  Harrison's  administration 
in  many  important  measures,  among  whicli  were  the  Reciprocity  amendment 
to  the  McKinley  Tariff  Bill,  the  settlement  of  the  dispute  with  PJighuKl  over 
the  seal  fisheries  in  Bering  Sea,  the  securing  of  indemnity  from  Chili  for  the 
killing  of  American  sailors,  and  the  adjustment  of  a  diplomatic  difficulty  with 
Italy  in  consequence  of  the  lynching  of  a  number  of  Italians  in  New  Orleans. 
The  event  which  he  considered  most  important,  however,  was  the  assembling 
of  the  Pan-American  Conference,  in  1S89.  This  was  a  conference  of  represen- 
tatives of  the  different  American  governments,  to  consider  measures  for  pro- 
moting peace  and  international  good  feeling,  and  the  fostering  of  trade  and 
ocean  commerce ;  and  while  it  had  no  powers  of  legislation,  great  good  was 
accomplished  by  its  sessions. 


444 


JAMES  G.  BLAINE. 


In  the  last  two  years  of  Mr.  Blaine's  life,  troubles  fell  upon  him,  "  not 
singly,  but  in  battalions."  In  January,  1890,  Walker  Blaine,  his  eldest  son  and 
trusted  assistant,  died  suddenly,  of  pneumonia.  Within  a  month  afterward  his 
daughtc;r  Alice  died.  A  few  weeks  later  he  was  himself  prostratetl  by  an  attack 
of  what  proved  to  be  paralysis,  and  from  diis  time  forward  his  health  declined. 
He  resigned  his  office  in  the  spring  of  1892,  and  returned  to  his  home  in  Maine. 
Then  another  sorrow  came  to  him  in  the  death  of  his  son  Emmons.  In  Decem- 
ber he  becanv.'  suddenly  worse,  and  died  on  January  27,  1893. 

There  are  few  public  men  whose  death  caused  so  wide  a  sense  of  personal 

loss  as  that  of  Blaine.  Few  people 
are  able  to  win  the  feeling  of  fami- 
liar attachment  and  aftectionate 
loyalty  which  was  so  generally  felt 
for  him.  "He  had  the  rare  fac- 
ulty," says  Chauncey  M.  Depew, 
"of  never  forgetting  a  face  or  a 
name.  It  is  said  that  Henry  Clay 
possessed  it ;  but  beyond  Mr. 
Blaine,  Mr.  Thurlow  Weed,  and 
the  Prince  of  Wales,  I  have  never 
known  any  man  in  public  or  private 
life  who  had  it  Mr.  Blaine  would 
be  introduced  at  some  mass-meet- 
ing, or  a  reception  in  Washington, 
or  at  the  railway  station,  to  a  farmer 
or  a  mechanic  or  a  lawyer,  and  to 
hundreds  of  them.  .Subsequently 
one  of  these  men  would  be  in  his 
presence  at  some  place  distant  from 
the  town  where  the  introduction 
occurred.  Mr.  lUaine  would  take 
him  In'  the  hand,  call  him  by  name,  recall  the  circumstances  of  the  introduction, 
and  with  a  cortlial  grasp  and  a  peculiar  look  state  some  incident  of  their  brief 
conversation  ;  and  that  man  was  ready  for  the  rest  of  his  life  to  be  burned  at 
the  stake  for  James  G.  Blaine.   .  .  . 

"lie  will  stand  in  our  history  as  the  ablest  parliamentarian  and  most 
skilliul  del)ater  of  our  Congressional  history.  .  .  .  He  had  an  unusual  com- 
bination of  l)oundless  audacity  with  infinite  tact.  No  man  during  his  active 
career  has  disputed  with  him  his  hold  upon  the  popular  imagination  and  his 
leadership  of  his  i)arty.  1  le  has  left  no  successor  who  possesses,  in  any  degree 
such  as  he  possessed  it,  the  aflection  and  the  confidence  of  his  followers." 


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"V 


ROBERT   FULTON, 

THE    PIONEEK    OF    STEAM    NAVIOATION. 


T  is  a  curious  and  remarkable  iiict  in  the  history  of  invention  that, 
between  conception  and  achievement  Hes  a  gulf  wliich  manji 
men  of  the  greatest  genius  fail  to  bridge.  The  difficulty 
commonly  lies  not  in  making  the  invention,  but  in  adapting 
it  to  the  conditions, — in  a  word,  in  making  it  practical. 
%Wn§V^^'" ' "HMl."'  Robert  Inilton  is  distinguished  as  an  inventor  who  has  this 
vs^IBbM"'"'™*^     great  title  to  fame.     Me  was  not   the  in\entor  of   steam 

navigation  ;    he  was    not   even   the   first   man   to   build  a 
;;Qj|p^    steamboat ;  but  he  was  the  man  who  brought  st(.:amboats 
Y^j  \\\X.o  practical  use,  doing  successfully  the  work  which  needed 

<  J  '  to  be  done. 

l*"ulton  was  the  son  of  a  farmer  of  Lancastt'r  county 
Pennsylvania,  where  he  was  born  in  1765.  lie  was  a  dull  boy  at  study,  Ijut 
very  expert  at  drawing,  and  always  fond  of  machiiuny,  for  which  Ik;  often  neg- 
lected his  lessons.  His  teacher  once  remonstrated  with  him  ujx)!!  hi-  course, 
and,  failing  to  convince  him  by  argument,  rapped  him  sharply  over  the  knuckles 
with  a  ruler,  telling  him  he  would  make  him  do  something.  Looking  his  tutor 
sternly  in  the  face,  he  replied,  ".Sir,  I  came  here  to  have  something  beat  into 
my  brains,  not  into  my  knuckles," 

Having  determined  to  be  an  artist,  Inilton  went  to  Philadelphia,  where  he 
formed  a  friendship  with  I'ranklin.  His  success  was  rapid,  and  when  only 
twenty-one  he  went  to  luigland  to  study.  There  he  met  Watt,  wh  ^  had  )ust 
producetl  his  steam  engine,  which  I'ulton  stutlied  enthusiastically  :  a. id  he  was 
persuaded  to  give  up  the  profession  of  art  and  become  an  engineer.  Con- 
vinced that  the  steam  engine  could  be  applieil  to  navigation,  he  plunged  into 
experiments,  in  which  he  was  ioined  by  Robert  R.  Livingston,  then  minister  to 
France,  whose  daughter  1  larriet  afterward  became  I'ulton's  wife.  .Several 
models  made  by  I'ulton  convinced  Mr.  Livingston  that  he  had  overcome  the 
cause  of  the  failure;  of  other  inverilors,  and  it  was  linally  agreed  between  their 
to  build  a  large  boat  for  trial  on  the  Seine.  This  experimental  steamer  was 
furnished  with  paddle-wheels,  and  was  completed  early  in  1S03.     On  the  very 

417 


448  R0I1/:RT  ft'LTOX. 

morning  apjiointed  for  th(;  trial,  I'ultoii  was  aroused  from  his  slci'p  by  a  mes- 
senger, who  rushed  into  his  chamber,  pale  and  breathless,  exclaiming,  "Oh,  sir, 
the  boat  has  brokcMi  in  pieces  and  gone;  to  the  bottom!"  Hurrying  to  \.\\v.  sj)ot. 
he  found  that  the  weight  of  the  machinc-ry  had  brtjken  the  boat  in  half  and 
carrietl  the  whole  structure;  to  the  bottom  of  the  river.  He  at  once  set  to  work 
to  raise  the  machiner\',  dexotinv'  t\\  cntv-four  hours,  without  restiiiL:  or  catinLT, 
to  th(,'  imdertaking,  ami  succeetU'd  in  doing  so,  but  inllicled  u[)on  his  constitu- 
tion a  strain  from  which  he  never  entirely  recovered.  The  machinery  was  very 
Slightly  damaged,  but  it  was  necessary  to  rebuild  th(;  boat  entirely.  This  was 
accomplished  by  July  of  th(;  same  year,  and  the  Ijoat  was  tried  in  August  with 
triumphant  success,  in  the  |)resence  of  the  l'rc!nch  National  Institute  and  a 
vast  crowd  of  the  citizens  of  Paris. 

This  steamer  was  very  defective,  but  still  so  great  an  improvement  upon 
all  that  had  ])receded  it,  that  Messrs.  bulton  and  Livingston  determinc^d  to 
build  one  on  a  larger  scale,  in  the  waters  of  Xew  ^'ork.  Having  resolved  to 
return  home,  b'ulton  set  out  as  soon  as  possible,  stopping  in  luigland  on  his 
return,  to  order  an  engine  for  his  boat  from  Watt  and  IJoulton.  Scientific  men 
and  amateurs  all  agreed  in  jironouncing  luilton's  schemt;  impracticable  ;  but 
Fulton  went  on  with  his  work,  his  boat  attracting  great  attention  and 
exciting  no  less  ridicule.  The  steam  engine  ordered  from  Watt  and  P)Oulton 
was  received  in  th(;  latt(;r  part  of  i<So6;  and  in  the  following  spring  the  boat 
was  launched  from  the  ship-yard  of  Charles  Brown,  on  the  Kast  river.  I'ulton 
named  her  the  "Clermont,"  after  the  country  seat  of  his  friend  and  partner, 
Chancellor  Livingston.  .She  was  onci  hundred  and  thirty  feet  long,  eighteen 
feet  wide,  and  seven  fe<?t  deep.  The  boat  was  completed  about  the  last  of 
August,  and  she  was  moved  by  her  machinery  from  the  luist  river  into  the 
Hudson,  and  over  to  the  Jersey  shore.  This  trial,  Ijricf  as  it  was,  satisfied  I'ul- 
ton of  its  success,  and  he  announc(.'d  that  in  a  few  days  the  steamer  would  sail 
from  Xew  York  for  Albany. 

TIIF.    TUrAl,    TRIP. 

Monday,  .Septeml)er  ii,  i.So;,  th(;  time  set  for  sailing,  came,  and  expecta- 
tion was  at  its  high(;st.  The  frientls  of  the  inventor  were  in  a  state  of  feverish 
anxiety  lest  the  enterprise  should  come  to  grief,  and  the  scoffers  on  the  wharf 
were  all  ready  to  give  vent  to  shouts  of  derision.  Precisely  as  the  hour  of  one 
struck,  the  moorings  were  thrown  off  and  the  "Clermont"  moved  slowly  out 
into  the  stream.  X'olumes  of  smoke  rushed  forth  from  her  chimney,  and  lu^r 
wheels,  which  were  uncovered,  scattered  the  spray  far  behind  her.  The  spec- 
tacle was  certainlv  novel  to  th(;  i)eople  of  those  days,  and  the  crowd  on  the 
wharf  broke  into  shouts  of  ridicule.  .Soon,  howe\-er,  the  jeers  grew  silent,  for  it 
was  seem  that  the  steamer  was  increasing  her  spiMid.  In  a  little  while  she  was 
fairly  untler  way,  and   making  a  steady  progress  up  the  stream  at  the  rate  of 


SC/CXliSS  OF  77//:"  f/RST  TRIP.  449 

five  miles  per  hour.  The  incnHhility  of  the  spectators  h;ul  been  succeeded  by 
astonishment,  and  now  this  feeling  ga\e  way  lo  undisj^uised  delight,  and  cheer 
after  cheer  went  up  from  the  vast  throng-,  in  a  little  while,  howe\er,  the  boat 
was  observed  to  stijp,  and  the  enthusiasm  at  once  subsitled.  The  scoffers  were 
aj^ain  in  their  i^lor)-,  and  unhesitatingly  [)ronounced  the  boat  a  failurt;.  Their 
chagrin  may  l)e  iniai:;ined  wIkmi,  after  a  short  d(;lay,  the  steamer  once  iiKjre 
proceeded  on  her  way,  and  this  time  (;\-en  more  rapidly  than  before.  I'ulton 
had  disco\ered  that  the  paddles  were  too  loni^',  and  took  too  dec'p  a  liold  on  the 
water,  and  had  stopped  the  boat  for  the  purpose  of  shortenin^^  them. 

1  lavin^;'  remedied  this  defc;ct,  the  "  Clermont  "  continued  her  x'oya^e  during 
the  rest  of  the  tlay  and  all  night,  without  stopi)ing,  and  at  <jne  o'clock  the  ne.\t 
day  ran  alongside  the  landing  at  Clermont,  the  seat  of  Chancellor  l.i\ingston. 
She  lay  there  until  nine  the  next  morning,  when  slu;  continued  her  voyage 
toward  Albany,  reaching  that  city  at  fne  in  the  afternoon.  On  her  return  trip, 
she  reachetl  New  York  in  thirty  hours  running  time — exactly  five  miles  |)erhour. 

The  river  was  at  this  time  navigated  entirely  with  sailing  vessels.  The  sur- 
prise and  dismay  excited  among  the  crews  of  these  v(^ssels  by  the  appearance 
of  the  steadier  was  extreme.  These-  simple  jjeople  bi;h(;ld  what  they  supposed 
to  be  a  huge  monster,  vomiting  fire  and  smoke  from  its  throat,  lashing  the  water 
with  its  fins,  and  shaking  the  river  with  its  roar,  approaching  rapidly  in  the  face 
of  both  wind  and  tide.  Some  threw  themseh^es  llat  on  the  decks  of  their  ves- 
sels, where  they  remained  in  an  agony  of  terror  until  the  monster  had  passed, 
while  others  took  to  their  boats  and  made  for  the  shore  in  dismav,  leavhig  their 
vessels  to  drift  helplessly  down  the  stream. 

The  introduction  of  the  steamboat  gave  a  powerful  im|)etus  to  the  internal 
commerce  of  the  Union.  It  opened  to  navigation  many  important  rivers  whose 
swift  currents  had  closed  them  to  sailing  craft,  and  made  rapid  and  easy  com- 
munication between  the  most  distant  parts  of  the  country  practicable.  The 
public  soon  began  to  appreciate  this,  and  orders  came  in  ra|)idly  for  steamboats 
for  various  parts  of  the  country.  Inilton  executed  these  as  fast  as  possible,  and 
among  the  number  several  for  boats  for  the  Ohio  and   ?^Iississippi  rivers. 

Fulton  followed  up  the  "Clermont"  in  1S07  '^^'tli  ^  larger  boat,  called  the 
"  Car  of  Neptune,"  which  was  placed  on  the  Albany  route  as  soon  as  completed. 
The  Legislature  of  \ew  York  had  enacted  a  law,  immediately  upon  his  first 
sticcess,  giving  to  Livingston  and  himself  the  exclusi\e  right  to  navigate  the 
waters  of  the  .State  by  steam,  for  five:  years  for  every  additional  boat  they  should 
build  in  the  .State,  provided  the  whole  term  should  not  exc(;ed  thirty  years.  In 
1809  Fulton  obtained  his  first  j)atent  from  the  I'nited  .States,  and  in  181 1  he 
took  out  a  secfMid  patent.  I  lis  patcmts  were  limited  to  the  simple  means  of 
adapting  paddle-wheels  to  the  axle  of  the  crank  of  Watt's  engine. 

Meanwhile  the  power  of  the  Legislature  to  grant  the  steamboat  monopoly 


4SO 


KOJU^\a  J'CLTON. 


was  denied,  and  a  company  was  formed  at  Albany  to  establish  another  line  of 
steam  passaj^e  boats  on  the  Hudson,  between  that  city  and  New  York.  I'ulton 
and  his  partn(;r  asked  an  injunction,  which  was  refused,  whereupon  the  .State 
Le^nslature  passed  a  special  act  confirming  their  monopoly.  Years  of  liti_i;ation 
followed,  continuincr  imtil  after  I'ulton's  death  ;  and,  fmally,  the  eloquence  of 
Daniel  Webster  prevailed  a_L,fainst  the  monopoly,  the  Supreme  Court  of  the 
United  States  deciding-,  in  the  famous  "steamboat  case,"'  that  all  navigable 
waters  are  under  the  sole  jurisdiction  of  the  United  States,  and  free  alike  to  all 
citizens. 

In  January,  1815,  Fulton  was  summoned  to  Trenton,  New  Jersey,  as  a  "wxt 


MI^^,I.-,^,11'PI    hTl:AMl:ilATS   OV    TU-UAV. 


ness  in  one  of  the  numerous  suits  which  grew  out  of  the  efforts  to  break  down 
his  monopoly.  During  his  (.'xamination  he  was  very  much  exposed,  as  the  hall 
of  the  Legislature  was  uncommonly  cold.  In  returning  home,  he  crossed  the 
Hudson  in  an  open  boat,  and  was  detained  on  the  river  several  hours.  This 
severe  exposure  brought  on  an  attack  of  sickness,  which  for  a  short  time  con- 
fined him  to  his  bed.  The  steam  frigate,  then  almost  ready  for  her  engines, 
occasioned  him  great  anxiety  at  the  time,  and  before  he  had  fairly  recovered 
his  strength  he  went  to  the  shipyard  to  give  some  directions  to  the  workmen 
employed  on  her,  and  thus  exposed  himself  again  to  the  inclemency  of  the 
weather.  In  a  few  days  his  indisposition  prostrated  him  again,  and,  growing 
rapidly  worse,  he  died  on  the  24th  of  February,  1S15,  at  the  age  of  fifty  years 


SAMUEL  F.  B.  MORSE, 

THB    INVhiNTOK    OP    THK    TKUEGRAPH. 


Pl  i'ROBABLY  no  other  invention  of 
ni()tl(,'rn  tinii-s  has  clone  more  to 
change  the  face  of  the  world  than 
tiie  electric  telegraph.  'I'hc  Aicl 
that  one  man  in  New  York  can 
speak  to  another  in  Texas  or 
lira/.il  is  charL,red  with  stupendous 
nieanintj;-.  Throuc^h  the  telegraph 
the  newspaper  bring's  the  whole 
earth  before  us  at  the  breakfast 
taljle.  'ihe  electric  wire  is  like 
a  nerve  in  the  body,  bringing  all 
nations  into  sympathetic  com- 
munication, dispelling  ignorance 
and  [)rt;)utlice,  and  helping  to 
make  all  men  brothers.  To  the 
inventor  of  this  great  system  is 
due  a  debt  of  gratitude  that  can- 
not be  reckoned. 

Samuel  l*"inU:y  Breese  Morse 
was  born  at  Charlestown,  Massa- 
chusetts, on  the  27th  of  April, 
1 79 1.  He  exhibited  an  arly 
fondness  for  art,  as  well  as  studies  of  a  scientific  character,  and  while  a 
stutlent  at  Vale  College  displayed  an  es[)ecial  ajjtness  for  chemistry  and 
natural  philosophy.  Upon  leaving  college  he  dc-cichxl  to  adopt  the  profes- 
sion of  an  artist,  and  was  sent  abroad  to  study  under  the  tuition  of  West 
and  Copley  and  .\llston.  He  was  obligtxl  by  lack  of  means  to  return  in  about 
four  years.  1  lis  youth  was  spent  in  a  struggle  for  success  as  an  artist.  In 
1829  he  again  went  abroad  for  the  purpose  of  completing  his  art  studies. 
During  his  absence  he  was  elected   "  Professor  of  the  Literature  of  the  Fine 

45^ 


SAMl'F.L   F.    B.    MORSF.. 


454  SAJfC/tL  F.  /I  AfORSE. 

Arts"  in  the  UnivtTsity  of  the  City  of  Nc;\v  York.  He  set  out  on  his  return 
home  to  accept  this  profcssorshiij  in  the  autumn  of  1832,  sailing  from  Havre 
on  board  the  pack(;t  ship  "Sully." 

Among  his  fellow-passengers  on  the  "  Sully  "  were  a  number  of  persons 
of  intelligence  and  cultivation,  one  of  whom  had  rtjcently  witnessed  in  I'aris 
some  interesting  experiments  with  the  electro-magnet,  the  object  of  which  was 
to  prove  how  readily  the  electric  spark  could  be  obtained  from  the  magnet,  and 
the  rapidity  with  which  it  could  be;  disseminated.  To  Mr.  Morse  the  deveU^p- 
ment  of  this  newly-discovered  property  of  electricity  was  more  than  interesting. 
It  showed  him  his  true  mission  in  life.  He  thought  long  and  earnestly  upon 
the  subject,  [)acing  the  deck  under  the  silent  stars.  He  had  long  been  con- 
vinced that  electricity  was  to  furnish  the  means  of  rapid  communication 
between  distant  points,  of  which  the  world  was  so  much  in  need  ;  and  he  at 
once  set  to  work  to  discover  how  this  could  be  done.  He  succeeded  so  well 
that  before  the  "  Sully  "  reached  New  York  he  had  conceived  "  not  merely  the 
idea  of  an  electric  telegraph,  but  of  an  electro-magnetic  and  recording  tele- 
graph, substantially  and  essentially  as  it  now  exists,"  and  had  invented  an 
alphabet  of  signs,  the  same  in  all  important  respects  as  that  now  in  use. 

But  though  invented  in  1S32,  it  was  not  until  1S35  that  he  was  enabled  to 
complete  his  first  poor,  rude  instrument.  By  its  aid  he  was  able  to  send  signals 
from  a  given  point  to  the  end  of  a  wire  half  a  mile  in  length,  but  as  yet  there 
was  no  means  of  receiving  them  back  again  from  the  other  extremity.  He  con- 
tinued to  experiment  on  his  invention,  and  made  several  improvements  in  it.  It 
was  plain  from  the  first  that  he  needed  a  duplicate  of  his  instrument  at  the  other 
end  of  his  wire,  but  for  a  long  time  he  was  unable  to  have  one  made.  At  length 
he  acquired  the  necessary  funds,  and  in  July,  1837,  had  a  duplicate  instrument  con- 
structed, and  thus  perfected  his  plan.  His  telegraph  now  worked  to  his  entire 
satisfaction,  and  he  could  easily  send  signals  to  the  remote  end  of  his  line  and 
receive  replies  in  return.  Having  brought  it  to  a  successful  completion,  he  ex- 
hibited it  to  large  audiences  at  the  University  of  New  York,  in  September,  1837. 

DARK    DAYS. 

He  now  entered  tipon  that  period  of  the  inventor's  life  which  has  proved 
to  many  so  wearying  and  disheartening — the  effort  to  bring  his  invention  into 
general  use.  He  applied  to  Congress  in  vain  for  aid.  Considerable  interest  in 
the  subject  was  aroused  in  Congress  and  throughout  the  country,  but  he  derived 
no  benefit  from  it.  If  men  spoke  of  his  telegraph,  it  was  only  to  ridicule  it,  or 
to  express  their  doubts  of  its  success.  He  was  very  poor,  and,  as  one  of  his 
friends  has  since  declared,  had  literally  "  to  coin  his  mind  for  bread."  His 
sturdy  independence  of  character  would  not  allow  him  to  accept  assistance  from 
any  one,  although  tliere  were  friends  ready  and  even  anxious  to   help  him. 


AID  FROM  CONGRESS. 


455 


Alone  and  niaiifnlly  ho  foiijj;ht  his  way  tliroiii^h  these  dark  days,  still  hopeful  of 
siu;c(,'ss  for  his  in\(Mition,  and  [jatiently  s(;ekinLj  to  improve  it  \vher(!ver  o|)por- 
tiinity  presented  its(;lf.  At  length,  in  rS40,  he  received  his  lonj^-diilayed  patent 
from  the  ireneral  }rov<;rnment,  and,  encouraj^jed  by  this,  pnisented  a  second 
petition  to  Contjress,  askinsj;'  its  aid  in  the  construction  of  an  experimental  line 
between  Haltimon?  and  Wasliin^ton.  I  le  had  to  encounter  a  i^reat  deifree  of 
skepticism  and  ridicuh;,  with  many  other  obstacles  ;  but  finally,  on  the  very 
last  day  of  tin;  session,  when  he  had  yiven  up  all  hopt;,  a  bill  was  passed 
appropriatiiiL,''  thirty  thousand  dollars  to  construct  the  line;,  liis  dearest  wish 
was  at  last  realized,  antl  the  hour  of  his  triumph  was  at  hand. 

Work   on   th(;  teley^raph  line  was  im- 
mediately beL,run,  anil  carri(;d  on  actively. 
At  tn-st,  an  insulated  wire  was  buri(;il 
under  m'ound  in  a  lead 


SHOP    IN    WHICH    THK    riR:,!-    MllRSK    I NS 1  Rl^MKN  I'    WAm    L(  >Ni  1  RL  CTKI)    I'OR    KXH  lllll  ION    HKIORK   CdNllRKSS, 


pipe,  but  this  failing-  to  i,dve  satisfaction,  the  wire  was  elevated  upon  poles.  On 
the  27th  of  May,  1S44,  the  line  was  completed,  and  thi;  first  trial  of  it  matle  in 
the  presence  of  the  government  officials  and  many  other  distini^'-uished  m(;n. 
Professor  Morse  was  confident  of  success  ;  but  this  occasion  was  a  period  of  the 
most  intense  anxiety  to  him,  for  he  knew  that  his  entire  future  was  staked  upon 
the  result  of  this  hour.  Amoni^'  the  company  present  to  witness  the  trial  was 
the  Secretary  of  the  Treasury,  John  C.  Spencer.  Although  very  much  interested 
in  the  undertaking,  he  was  entirely  ignorant  of  the  principles  involved  in  it,  and 
he  asked  one  of  Professor   Morse's   assistants  how  larire  a  bundle  could  be 


4S0  S^WUEL  I'.  /.'.  MORSE. 

sent  over  the  wires,  and  if  the   I'liited  Stat(!s  mail   could   not  he  sent  in   the 
same  way. 

When  all  was  in  readiness,  Professor  Morse  seatetl  himself  at  the  instru- 
ment, aiul  sent  his  first  messajj^e  to  Baltimore.  An  answer  was  jjromptly 
returned,  and  messaijcs  were  sent  and  replicas  recei\ed  with  a  rapidity  and  accu- 
racy which  placed  the  triumph  of  the  invention  beyond  the  possibility  of  doubt. 
Conjjjratulations  were  showered  upon  the  inventor,  who  rec<MV('d  tluMii  as  calmly 
as  he  had  previously  borne  th('  scoffs  of  uKiny  of  these  same  men.  \'et  his 
heart  throbbed  all  tin;  while  with  a  brilliant  triumph.  I'ame  and  fortune  both 
rose  proudly  before  him.  1  le  !iad  won  a  j^reat  victory  antl  conferred  a  lasting 
benefit  upon  his  race. 

The  success  of  the  experimental  line;  l)rf)U!.;ht  Professor  Morse  numt-rous 
offers  for  the  use  of  his  invention.  'Pelei^n-aph  companies  were  orL^^anized  all  over 
the  country,  and  the  stock  issued  by  them  was  taken  up  as  fast  as  oifered.  At 
the  present  day,  not  only  the  United  States,  but  the  whole  worltl,  is  covered  with 
telejrraph  lines.  The  Morse  system  is  adopted  on  the;  principal  lines  of  the 
United  States,  on  all  the  lines  of  the  Eastern  continent,  and  (,>\clusively  on  all 
the  continental  lines  of  liurope,  from  the  extreoK;  Russian  north  to  the  Italian 
anil  .Spanish  sf)uth,  eastward  throus^h  the  Turkish  I'Jiipire,  south  into  P-t^yiJt  and 
northern  Africa,  and  throu^di  India,  Australia,  and  [larts  of  China. 

The  rapid  _ij^rowth  of  the  tele<rraph  interest  of  the  United  States  placed 
Professor  Morse  in  the  possession  of  a  large  fortune,  which  was  tjreatly  increased 
by  the  adoption  of  his  invention  in  Europe.  Honors,  too,  were  showered  upon 
him  from  all  parts  of  the  worUl.  In  184S,  his  alma  mater.  Vale  Collesj^e,  con- 
ferred on  him  the  complimentary  dej^ree  of  LL.I).,  and  since  then  he  has  been 
made  a  member  of  nearly  all  the  American  scientific  and  art  academies.  F"rom 
European  t^mxernments  and  scientific  and  art  associations  he  has  received  more 
honors  than  have  ever  fallen  to  the  share  of  any  other  American.  Almost  every 
sovereit^n  in  the  world  has  conferred  upon  Professor  Morse  some  honor  or  title. 

In  I'ebruary,  1854,  Mr.  Cyrus  W.  iMcdd,  of  Xew  York,  ignorant  of  Pro- 
fessor Morse's  views  upon  this  subject,  wrote  to  him  to  ask  if  he  considered 
the  working'  of  a  cable  across  the  Atlantic  practicable.  The  Professor  at  once 
sousrht  an  interview  with  Mr.  Meld,  and  assured  him  of  his  entire  confidence 
in  the  uiulertaking'.  He  entered  heartily  into  Mr.  P'ield's  scheme,  and  rendered 
great  aid  in  the  noble  enterprise,  which  has  been  described  elsewhere  in  these 
pages.  He  was  present  at  each  attempt  to  lay  the  cable,  and  participated  in 
the  final  triumph  by  which  his  prediction,  made  twenty-three  years  previous, 
was  verified. 

Professor  Morse  died  in  New  York  in  April,  1872. 


vC  Giants  OF  America  )>V^' 


THOMAS  A.  EDISON, 


A.ND    OTHBR    GRKAT    IXVKNTORS    AND    THEIR 

INVENTIONS. 


schooliii'' 


"^  '^^ROBABLV  no  man  in  the  fnitctl  States  is  better  known 
or  more  unixersally  intereslinq'  than  "  'i'he  Wizard  ot 
Menlo  Park,"  the  inventor  of  the  electric  lamij,  the 
dynamo,  the  phonograph,  the  "stock  ticker,"  the  elec- 
tric pen,  and  the  mimeograph,  antl  the  disco\H,'rer  and 
improver  oi  innunKn^alile  things  in  the  held  of  electricity. 
y\nd  yet,  hi^h  as  is  the  position  tliat  Ktlison  has  even 
nov.'  rtMched,  he  began  at  the  very  bottom.  He  was  the 
son  of  a  poor  man,  a  village  jack-of-all-trades,  whose  home 
was  at  Milan,  Ohio,  where  the  boy  was  l)orn  in  1S47.  While 
he  was  a  child  the  family  moved  to  i'ort  Huron,  Michigan. 
In  iiis  whole  life  Thomas  had  l)ut  two  months  of  retridar 
the  rest  of  his  education  was  giviMi  him  by  his  mother,  Piut  he  had 
a  restless,  inquiring  mind,  an  insatiable  appetite  for  knowledge.  When  only 
ten  years  old  he  read  Gibbon  and  Hume,  and  was  fascinated  by  books  of  chem- 
istry, which  he  pored  over  long  before  he  could  pronounce  the  names  of  the 
substances  which  he  read  al    ut. 

Wh.  1  I'Alison  was  twel  years  of  age;,  he  became  a  newsboy  on  the  Grand 
Trunk  Railway.  With  the  busin(>ss  of  s  Hing  papers  and  candies  on  the  trains, 
however,  he  still  kept  going  his  old  hobby  of  chemistry,  and  established  an 
amateur  laboratory  in  one  coriun"  of  the  baggage-car,  where  he  amused  himself 
at  leisure!  moments.  Om-  day,  whiU'  he  was  absent  from  the  car,  a  bottle  of 
phosphorus  was  upset,  and  the  car  set  on  lire  This  put  an  enil  to  his  chemi- 
cal experiments  for  a  time.  The  baggage  master  kicked  his  chemical  apparatus 
out  of  the  car,  and  lulison  w.is  obliged  to  set  up  his  business  in  son.  other 
place, 

(^n  on(>  of  his  trips  to  Chicago,  the  publishiM"  of  one  of  the  Chicago  dailies 

made  him  a  present  of  a  lot  of  worn-out  typ(',  with  which  I'Mison  im|)rovisetl  a 

printing-office,  and  began  to  publish  a   paper  of  his  own,  (.'ntitled    'FIw    (Jraiid 

Trunk  Herald,  which  gave  such  items  of  news  as  the  removal  of  a  brakeman 

"  459 


46o  THOMAS  A.  1:1)  I  SOX. 

or  bai^-;;;iL;tMiiastcr  to  New  York,  or  lold  how  a  train  hand  fell  and  hurt  his  leg'. 
One  day,  thn'iiiL;'  the  war,  ht;  pi-rsiKidcil  a  ttilc^^raph  opcralm-  at  ChicaL;o  to  send 
to  the  principal  stations  on  th(j  roail  a  Imlh-tin  of  thf:  '^n-at  liattlc  of  Shih)h,  in 
conse(|U(.'nct,'  ot  which,  wlicn  the  train  arrived,  L^riiit  crowds  of  people  were;  at 
the  stations  hankering;'  alter  papers,  which  luli^on  sold  them  at  an  immense 
profit.  This  tiirn<:il  his  attention  to  ti'lei^^raphinL^,  to  which  he  soon  became 
devcjted. 

About  this  time  a  stroke  of  luck  came  to  him  in  saving;'  the  child  of  a  teh.'- 
grajjli  operator  from  beini^-  killed  by  a  train.  Tlie  L^rateful  father  rewartled  the 
boy  by  teachiuL;-  him  tel<'L^ra|)hinL;-.  Thomas  riu^L^c'd  up  wires  and  batteries  in 
his  old  home  at  I'ort  1  luron,  and  de\-oted  all  his  spare  hours  to  [)ractice.  When 
he  was  ei[:^ht(;en,  he  secured  a  position  at  bidianapolis,  and  while  there  he 
worked  out  his  first  invention,  an  automatic  register  for  receivinj^'  messages  and 
transferrinij;'  them  to  another  wire.  h\  this  ruiU;  macliine  was  containetl  the 
germ  of  the  phono^j-raph,  which  he  |)erfected  years  after. 

ISy  dint  of  incessant  i)ractice,  b'dison  became  an  extremely  expert  and  swift 
cpcM'ator  ;  kjiit  his  usefulness  was  alwa\'s  limited  li\-  his  tendency  to  contrive 
scht-mes  for  saving"  labor.  (  )n  one  occasion,  when  he  was  ni^ht  operator,  he 
was  refpiired  every  half  hour  to  telegraph  the;  word  "six"  to  the  supcrinten- 
diMit,  to  show  that  lie  was  awak(.'  and  attending-  to  businc^ss.  The  ingenious 
younL;'  man  contrived  a  machine  which  did  the  work  for  him,  and  s|)ent  the  time 
porine'  over  his  l^eloved  chemistry.  This  little  artifice  bt'iny  discovered,  he  lost 
his  situation  bv  his  clevernc^ss. 

The  be^inniiit;'  of  lulison's  career  as  an  inventor  was  not  more  successful  than 
is  usual.  I  le  was  uniloubtedly  ine-enious,  but  liis  iiiL^cnuity  actually  prevented 
him  from  beinu;'  a  eood  tel(,'L^ra|)h  operator.  After  a  time,  howc^ver,  he  f(nind 
his  niche.  lie  drifttu!  to  Xew  ^'ork,  wher(\  aftc^r  vainly  Mide'avorini^  to  interest 
the  teleeTaj)]!  companies  in  liis  inventions,  he  established  himself  as  an  expert 
in  odd  jobs  pi-rtainini;' to  t(;le^raphin!_;'.  ( )ne  dav  the;  Western  I'nion  wire  to 
Alb.iny  would  not  work.  The  company's  regular  ek'ctricians  e\pt;rimi'nted  for 
days,  but  without  success,  and  finally,  as  a  forlorn  hope,  i'Mison  was  sent  tor. 
He  seated  himself  at  the  instrument  ami  i^'ot  conn(;ction  with  .\lbany  l)y  way  of 
Pittsburi^h.  Then  he  called  for  die  b(;st  operator  at  the  other  end  of  the  line, 
and  with  him  (;xperi.nented  tor  two  hours  with  currents  of  different  intensities. 
At  the  i'nd  of  this  timt;  Ik;  told  the  olTicers  that  the  trouble  was  at  a  ceM'tain  jjoiiit 
on  the  line,  and  what  it  was.  They  t(;lei.;;raphed  the  office  nearest  that  point, 
givino-  the  necessary  directions,  and  in  an  liour  the  wire  was  workin;;-  properly. 
This  ostablishetl  his  reputation  as  an  expert,  and  he  soon  began  to  rise  in  this 
line  of  business. 

Edison's  f'rst  larg'c  profits  came  to  him  frrmi  the  "stock  ticker,"  an  inven- 
tion for  reportin^^  in  brokers'  offices  the-  [)rices  of  stocks  on  the  exchange,  whicb 


IIVRK  AT  Jf/i.W.O  PARK. 


4MI 


is  now  in  univfM'Mil  use.      11<:  scttl(;(l  himself  in  X(j\vark,  X.  J.,  wlicrc  lie  rcnU;J 
a  sliop  and  l)<:L;an  to  manuiacturc  liis  machines.      1  lis  coniu'ction  wiih  ca[)itaHhis 

led  to  his  niakin:^  a  [)ro|)0- 
sition  ti)  an  association  of 
wealthy  im-n  to  experiment 
with  electric  liL^htiiiL;-,  they  to 
su|i[)ly  the  capital.  1  le  re- 
m<)\ccl  his  sho|)  to  M(!nlo 
Park,  a  (juiet  and  secluded 
^j  place,  where-  he  carried  on  his 
e,\periments,  which  soon  re- 
sultei.1  in  success.      This  placed 


±-wm^im^^ 


\'0.K9\^J^, 


him  in  iui  independent  position,  and  from 
that  timi;  to  th(^  [)resent  his  success  has 
been  only  a  f[u<'stit)n  of  deL,rree. 

Kdison  is  a  man    of   infinite  pertinacity  and  i^Teat  endurance.      When   he 
becomes  interested  in  solving  an  important  question,  he  Is  entirely  oblivious  of 


462  T/h\V.lS  A.  ED/SON. 

the  passao^e  of  time  and  of  physical  nc^rds.  At  one  tiiiK;,  when  his  printing 
telegraph  for  some  reason  L;ave  out  antl  ci;ased  to  work,  Ik-  wcjrked  for  sixty 
hours  without  intermission,  taking;"  ncj  sU-ep  or  rest,  having;'  for  his  only  iood 
crackers  and  cheese,  at  wliich  he  niljbk'd  from  time  to  time  as  he  worked.  At 
another  time  all  of  th(;  electric  lamps  burning-  in  Meido  Park  suddenly  Lra\e  out. 
The  inventor  was  almost  stunned.  Vov  ti\e  days  he  worked  at  the  jM-oblem, 
"■ivinir  neithc^r  himself  nor  his  assistants  anv  ri;st.  .\t  th(;  end  of  that  time  the 
ditficulty  was  still  unsoKcd,  and  lulison  went  to  bed  sick  with  disappointment 
and  an.xiety.  Ordinarily  he  is  one  of  the  most  considerate  of  men,  but  on  this 
occasion  he  was  much  surprist^d  when,  at  the  end  of  fifteen  hours'  incessant 
work,  it  was  su^^ested  that  rest  anil  rtdreshments  were  in  order.  'Jimc  pro\ed 
the  troul)le  to  l)e  in  th<^  imperfect  exhaustion  of  the  air  from  the  L;lobes  in  which 
the  filament  burned,  and  loiii;"  and  perseverini,^  application  was  reipiiretl  to 
devise  means  for  mon;  completely  I'xhaustinL;-  it.  JMually  this  was  accomplished, 
and  the  incantlescent  li^ht  became  a  i)ractical  success. 

lidison's  mind  is  that  of  the  typical  inventor.  He  says  of  himself  that  his 
first  thoui^ht  on  lookin<jf  at  any  machine  or  contrivance  whatever  is  to  imagine 
how  it  could  be  improved.  With  him  it  is  a  maxim  that  "  whatever  is,  is  wrong'," 
or  at  least  that  it  might  and  ought  to  be  b(!tter.  This  peculiarity  has  made  him 
one  of  the  most  fertile  inventors  of  history,  but  it  also  results  in  his  being 
entirely  wrappetl  up  in  the  one  absorbing  pursuit.  Idis  ideal  of  luxury,  when 
riches  came  to  him,  was  not  fast  horsc^s,  or  social  enjoyment,  or  even  distinction, 
but  a  perfect  workshop,  which  had  hitherto  cost  so  much  as  to  be  unattainable 
to  him.  In  his  laboratory  he  has  gathered  every  substance  known  to  science- 
solid,  tluid,  antl  gas.  luery  c;ffort  is  made  to  have  at  his  command  all  the 
known  resources  of  scientific  research.  Forty-five  scientific  journals,  in  tlifferent 
languages,  are  received  in  his  library,  and  systematically  indexed  as  fast  as 
received,  so  that  every  item  of  information  which  they  contain  is  right  at  his 
hand  at  any  moment.  In  such  respects  b'dison's  workshop  at  Menlo  Park  is 
unique.  It  is  hard  to  conceive  of  a  chemical  or  mechanical  experiment  for 
which  he  is  not  perfectly  equipi^tMl. 

Edison  says  of  himself  that  he  is  a  poor  business  man.  He  hates  routine. 
Goinij  over  ami  over  auaiii  the  regular  round  of  a  ljusin(;ss  system  is  intoler- 
able  to  him.  Most  men  are  crc>atures  of  habit,  and  need  to  have  their  daily  task 
laid  out  for  them.  They  want  to  work  without  thinking.  lulison  cannot.  His 
thought  runs  away  with  him.  This  tendency  of  his  mind  is  well  illustrated  by 
his  experience  in  manufacturing.  When  lie  had  perfected  his  "  stock  ticker," 
he  took  a  contract  to  manufacture  some  hundrctds  of  them  at  a  shop  at  Newark, 
N.  J.  "I  was  a  poor  manufacturer,"  lu^  (.li'clares,  "because  I  could  not  let  well 
enough  alone.  My  first  impulse,  upon  taking  In  my  hand  any  machine,  from 
an  egg-beater  to  an  electric  motor,  is  to  seek  a  way  of  improving  it.     Therefore, 


OTHER  GREAT  INVENTORS. 


4'5J 


as  soon  as  I  have  finished  a  macliinc  I  am  anxious  to  take  it  apart  aqain  in  order 
to  make  an  experiment.      Tliat  is  a  costly  mania  lor  a  manut.iclurer." 

The  visitor  to  J'^lison's  kiboratory  tinds  llie  master  a  rather  tail,  compactly- 
built  man,  with  a  somewhat  boyish,  clean-sha\en  face,  which  seems  made  prema- 
turely old  by  intiMise  thouL;ht  ami  a])plication.  Over  his  clothes  he  wears  a 
lilouse,  which  is  stained  with,  acids.  "  llood  clodies  are  thrown  away  on  me," 
he  says.  "1  f<x,'l  it  is  wron^^  to  wear  any,  and  1  newr  put  on  a  new  suit  when  I 
can  help  it."  His  hands  are  discolored  with  clujmicals  cUid  oil,  aiul  his  hair  has 
also  received  some  touches,  for  lu;  has  a  habit  of  wipiiiL;'  his  lingers  u[)on  it.  lie 
is  somewhat  deaf,  and  watches  his  \'isitor's  lips  clos(.:ly  to  catch  what  he  is  sayiny. 
He  is  kind  and  genial,  and  patient  in  explanation  to  those  of  incpiirinLj'  minds. 

Edison  is  one  of  the  busiest  men  in  the  world.  I'^ach  imention  or  improve- 
ment seems  only  to  wideii  the  held.  "These  are  only  tools,"  he  says,  "with 
which  we  may  accomplish  still  ^^reater  wonders.  The  \(;ry  fact  that  this  cen- 
tury has  accomplished  so  much  in  the  way  of  inxention  makes  it  more  than 
probable  that  the  next  century  will  do  far  greater  things." 


OTHER  GREAT  INVENTORS  AND  THEIR  INVENTIONS. 

Great  inventions  are  not  necessarily  large  or  costly.  The  scythe  is  a  simple 
tool,  and  inexpensive  ;  yet  the  practical  perfecting  of  it  by  Joseph  Jenks,  almost 
at  the  outset  of  farm-life  in  Xew  England,  is 
an  epoch-mark  in  agriculture.  It  was  the 
beginning  of  a  new  order  of  things.  Putting 
curved  fingers  to  the  Improved  scythe  blade 
and  snath  furnished  the  American  grain 
cradle,  a  farm-tool  perfect  of  its  kind,  and 
likely  to  hold  its  place  as  long  as  grain  is 
grown  on  uneven  ground. 

The  plow  supplied  to  the  Colonial  farm- 
ers was  as  veneraltle  as  the  reaplngdiook. 
It  had  been  substantially  unimproved  for 
four  thousand  years.  The  moment  our  peo- 
ple were  free  to  manufixcture  for  th<miselves,  "'' 
they  set  about  its  improvement  In  form  and 
material;  the  very  first  patent  granted  by  the 
Patent  Office  being  for  an  improved  plow  of 
cast-iron.  The  best  plow  then  In  use  ^^■as  a  rude  affair,  clumsily  made,  hard  to 
guide,  and  harder  to  draw.     Its  improvement  engaged  the  attention  of  many 


,\    Liil.'iMAI.    MINNI.Ni;-\VllKEr- 


464 


OTIIHR  GREAT  IXVENTORS. 


COLONIAL    I'HiW    Willi    WODDKN    MOLD-BOARD. 


inventors,  notably  President  Jefte-rson,  who  experimented  with  various  forms, 
and  made  a  mathematical  investiyaticjn  of  the  shape  of  the  mould-board,  to 
determine  the  form  best  suited  for  the  work.  He  was  the  first  to  discover  the 
importance  of  straight  lines  from  the  sole  to  the  to[)  of  th(j  share  and  mould- 
board.  Colon(;l  K.ind<)l[jli,  Jefferson's 
son-in-law,  "  the  best  farnuT  in  X'irginia," 
invented  a  side-hill  plow.  Smith  was  the 
first  to  hitch  two  |)lows  together  ;  and 
Allen,  by  combining  a  number  of  small 
plow-points  in  one  implement,  leil  the  way 
to  the  production  of  the  intinite  variety  of 
horse-hoes,  cultivators,  and  the  likt^  But 
Jethro  Wood,  of  Xew  ^'(Jrk,  probably  did 
more  than  any  otln.'r  man  to  perfect  the 
cast-iron  plow,  and  to  secure  its  i^f'neral 
use  in  place  of  the  cumbrous  plows  of  the 
earlier  days.  His  skill  as  an  inventor,  and  his  pluck  as  a  fighter  against  stolid 
ignorance  and  prejudice,  for  the  advancement  of  sensible  plowing,  cost  him — 
what  they  ought  to  have  gained  for  him — a  fortune.  The  use  of  cast-iron 
plows  had  become  general  by  1S25. 

ELI    WHITNEY    AND    THE    COTTi^X-ril.V. 

Whitney  was  a  New  England  genius,  who  graduated  at  Vale  in  1792,  and 
went  to  Georgia  to  teach  school,  living  in  the  family  of  (jeneral  Greene's  widow. 
Having  heard  m".ch  of  the  slow  and 
tedious  work  of  separating  the  cotton 
from  the  seed,  Whitney  undertook  to 
make  a  machine  for  doing  the  work, 
which  he  did  in  the  same  year,  1792. 
When  it  was  introduced,  the  entire  cot- 
ton crop  of  the  country  could  have  Ijeen 
grown  on  a  single  field  of  two  hundred 
acres.  A  good  day's  work  for  a  man 
was  cleaning  four  or  five  pounds  of  lint, 
or  a  bale  of  cotton  in  three  months. 
Whitney's  gin  enabled  a  man  to  do  the 
same  work  in  si.x  days.  As  a  conse- 
quence of  the  cheaper  and  more  rapid  means  of  preparing  it  w  ith  the  Whitney 
gin,  the  cotton  crop  of  the  South  rose  to  sudden  prominence.  In  iSoo  it  was 
eighteen  million  pounds  ;  the  ne.xt  year,  forty  million.  Ten  years  later  It  was 
eighty  million  pounds,  which  product  was  more  than  doubled  in  the  next  tec 


^.iS 


A    NKW    KN.a.AM)    \V1.A\1J;    WIMllM.     IMK    SPOOLS. 


Mccormick  axd  evaxs.  465 

years.  In  1S30  it  was  a  million  bales;  two  millions  in  1S40;  three  in  1R51  j 
and  four  in  i860.  Without  it  modern  cotton  crops  of  eio;ht  or  nine  million  bales 
would  be  impossible  ;  siin[)ly  to  pick  the  seeds  out  of  the  crop  of  1S91  in  the  old 
way  would  have  kept  the  entire  working  population  of  the  L'nitetl  States  busy 
for  a  solid  month. 

It  is  sad  to  have  to  add  that  Wiiitney's  invention  was  so  extensively  pirated 
that  he  derived  but  little  benefit  from  an  invention  which  has  added  almost 
untold  wealth  to  the  country  and  the  world. 

CYRUS  ir.  ^tccoR^^(•IC  axd  the  reaping-machine. 

The  circumstance  that  reaping  by  machinery  was  as  old  as  the  Christian  era, 
and  a  multitude  of  ':omparatively  modern  atte'mpts  had  been  made,  particularly 
in  Iingland,  to  apply  horse-power  to  the  cutting  of  grass  and  grain,  only  added 
to  the  merit  of  inventors  like  Mussey  and  McCormick,  who  practically  solved 
the  problems  involvetl  by  mi^'ans  so  simple  and  efficient  that  they  have  not  been 
and  are  likely  never  to  be  entirely  displaced.  Hussey's  mowing-machine  of 
1833  had  reciprocating  knives  working  through  slotted  fingers,  a  feature  essen- 
tial to  all  practical  grass  and  grain  cutters.  McCormick  patented  a  combination 
reai)er  anil  mower  in  iS,i4.  which  he  subsequently  so  Improved  as  to  make  it 
the  necessary  basis  of  all  reapers.  In  competitive  trials  at  home  and  abroad, 
the  American  mowers  and  reapers  have  never  failed  to  dt;monstrate  their  superi- 
ority over  all  others. 

Their  first  great  victory,  which  gave  them  the  world-wide  fame  they  have 
so  successfully  maintained,  was  won  in  London  in  1S51.  In  the  competitive  trial 
near  Paris,  in  1S55,  the  American  machine  cut  an  acre  of  oats  in  twenty-two 
minutes;  the  English  in  si\l:\--slx  minutes;  the  French  in  seventy-two.  In  the 
later  competition,  local  and  International,  their  superior  efficiency  has  been  not 
less  signally  manifested. 

OLIVER    EVANS    AND    THE    STEAM    ENGINE. 

One  of  the  most  fertile  Inventors  of  the  eighteenth  century  was  OHvei 
Evans,  who  deserves  Immortal  fame  as  the  developer  of  the  modern  "hlgh-pres 
sure  "  or  non-condensing  engine,  and  the  pioneer  in  improved  milling  machinery 
As  early  as  176S  he  was  experimenting  with  steam,  and  was  able  to  drive  ii 
small  boat  by  means  of  steam  and  paddle-wheels.  In  17S6  he  applied  to  the 
State  of  Pennsylvania  for  a  patent  on  the  application  of  his  engine  to  driving 
mills,  and  to  a  stc'am  carriage,  l;)Ut  his  petition  was  denied.  There  was  then  no 
national  patent  office  for  the  encouragement  of  mf-n  of  original  ideas  ;  if  there 
had  been,  the  pracdcal  development  of  the  steamI)oat  and  the  steam-carriage 
might  have  been  materially  hastened,  for  Evans  was  diverted  from  this  line  of 
work  for  a  dozen  years  or  more.     In  1800  he  returned  to  it,  and  built  a  novel  non 


466 


OTHER  GREAT  INVENTORS. 


contlcnsinfj  (.■iiniiic,  dcsignnil  for  a|)i)lic;itinn  to  a  steani-carriagc,  but  for  financial 
reasons  set  to  \vorkln<^  a  plaster  mill.  A  yc'ar  or  two  after  he  built  an  engine  of 
150  horse  power  for  parties  in  Xew  Orleans,  who  set  it  up  in  the  boat  for  which 
it  was  intemled.  But  a  long  season  of  low  water  prevented  a  trial  of  the  boat, 
and  wasted  capital  compelled  the  owners  to  take  the  engine  out  and  set  it  to 
work  in  a  lumber  mill,  where  it  did  such  good  service  that  the  steamboat  project 
was  abantloned.  It  was  tluis  no  fault  of  Evans  that  the  pioneer  engine,  of  the 
type  afterward  adopti^l  for  western  river  navigation,  ilid  not  win  for  him  the 
fame  subse([uently  achieved  by  I'ulton.     In  1804  l^vans  built  for  Philadelphia  a 


^«m>.i^ 


rRlMlTlM,    MnUl.i    (.H-    CRIMiINi;    Ci'K.N. 


Steam-dredger,  which,  set  on  wheels,  propelled  itself  along  the  streets  to  the 
river,  where  it  was  launched  and  the  engine  applied  to  its  stern-wheel,  when  as 
a  steamboat  it  was  navigated  about  the  Schuylkill. 

JAC0I5    PERKINS    AXO    Tlin    XAIL   MACHINE. 

Tile  first  single  machine  of  American  production  to  become  widely  famous 
was  the  nail  machine  of  facob  Perkins.  Perkins  was  born  in  Newburyport, 
Massachusetts,  in  1766,  and  patented  his  great  inachine  in  1795.  At  that  time 
nails  were  mostly  importcid,  and  cost  twenty-five  cents  a  poimd.  They  were  all 
hand-wrought,  chielly  at  chimney-corner  forges,  where,  in  New  England,  farmers 


PF.RKl.yS  AM)  !l/S  X.l/L  MACI/ZM:. 


46; 


ami  Iiinibcnncii,  t'lshcnncn  ami  lal)or<'rs,  ciniiloycil  ihcir  cn cnin^s  aiiil  nihcr  otUi 
times  ill  haiiinicriiiL;'  ii-iils.  In  I'airoiif,  more  cspcii.illy  in  lln'  maniil.uliirin;^ 
districts  of  I'ji^laiid.  iluas  a  coinnioii  doincsiic  iiidiisiry.  uttcii  i'ni|ili>yiiiL;' wliole 
families,  hut  chielly  woiiumi  and  children,  ill  paid,  over  worki'd,  and  tiiilni:^-  nndiT 

social  conditions  ot  the  most  appallinLj 
characler.  The  American  n.iil  machine 
promplh'  displaced  diis  domesUc  iiuluslry 
here,  anil  more  slowly  that  ot  h.urope,  l)y 
making-  it  jiossiMe  to  use  [)()\ver  in  nail- 
making',  while  enalilin^'  a  workman  to 
do  in  a  minute  the  pi'e\ious  task  ol  an 
hour.  The  pi'iee  of  nails  was  speedily 
reduced  two-thirds,  suhseipiently  much 
more,  with  an  assured  supply  (Kpial  to 
any  demand.      1  he  I'arl)'  cut  nails  were 


not    so    touL^h    as    the  ^ 

hand-made  nails,  hut  for 
most  purposes  thc:y   were 
neattT  and  ])i'tter;   while  any 
desired     tousj^hness     was     ulti- 
mately secured  by  annealini;',  and 
bv   the    use  of  .steel,   iiarticiilarlv 

steel  wire.  Every  styU;  of  nail,  from  the  smallest  tack  t(.  tlie  railroad  spik(^  is 
now  maile  Ijv  machinery,  at  a  cost  hut  little  aho\-(;  that  of  the  raw  metal,  the 
forms  beini.^''  as  various  as  their  manifohl  uses.  The  manufacture  of  cut 
nails  has  become  one  of  the  most  important  of  the  yreat  iron  industries  of 
the  country. 


468  now/:  .  L\7)  J/:KOME. 

KIIAS    lldWi;    AM>     IIIK    SKWINC    MM  IIINK. 

Howe  was  ])C)rii  at  Spencer,  Massacluis(!tts,  in  1S19.  While  employed  as 
a  machinist  he  made  many  i;.\])erimi'iUs  .md  ellorts  to  iincnt  a  sewing'  machine, 
antl  after  j^reat  cliscouraLicments  completed  one,  tor  which  he  secured  a  patent 
in  1S46.  ThouLjh  the  practical  parent  ot  the  modern  scnvinj;' machin(.-,  it  was 
not  in  itself  a  succe'ssful  machine,  nor  was  liowi;  at  first  successful  in  enlistiiiir 
capital  to  aid  him  in  developing;'  from  it  a  l^ooiI  machine.  In  the  course  of  four 
or  live  yi'ars  the  defecti\(;  ilelails  were  corri'ited  or  displaced  by  the  work  of 
other  inventors  in  L;reat  numbers,  who  attacked  the  problems  of  tlu'  se.'winjf 
machine  as  soon  as  their  importance  became  ji;enerally  appreciated.  The  Singer 
machine,  which  closely  re'sc-mbled  Howe's,  canu;  into  the  field  in  1S50,  and  took 
the  lead  in  sales  until  1S54.  Tiie  (irover  &  P)aker  machine  became  most  popu- 
lar for  four  or  fivi;  years-,  then  the  Wheeler  <!^  Wilson  for  ten  years.  In  the 
meantime,  all  the  companies  were  infrin^^in!.;-  on  the;  rights  of  Howe,  wh(j,  after 
expensive  litiL,^ation,  won  his  case,  and  enterc-d  into  an  agreement  with  the  great 
manufacturing  companies,  receiving  five  dollars  for  each  machine  made  until 
1S60;  after  that,  one  dollar  a  machine.  l^)etween  1S56  and  1877,  over  si,\  mil- 
lion machines  were  sold  in  the  L'nited  States.  Though  the  great  bulk  of  these 
machines  are  held  for  family  use.  the  factory  machines  were  estimated  to  give 
(the  world  t)ver)  employment  to  20,000.000  persons,  mostly  women.  In  social, 
not  l(-'ss  than  in  industrial  effects  the  sewing  machine  has  been  simply  revolu- 
tionary. 

CIIAL  NCKV    jKRoMK    AM)    AMKKUAX    CI.OCKS. 

The  pioneer  in  American  clock-making  was  Kli  Terry,  of  Plymouth,  Con- 
necticut, who  was  also  the  first  clock  ptnUller  in  the  beginning  of  the  present 
century.  As  the  means  and  methods  oi  cutting  the  wooden  wheels  were 
imi)roved,  the  clocks  were  greatly  chea|iened.  Chauncey  Jerome,  an  apprentice 
of  Terry,  was  esptxially  successful  in  reducing  the  cost  ami  improving  the  (piality 
of  these  primitive;  time-ke(;pers.  In  1837,  Mr.  Jerome  brought  out  the  machine- 
made  brass  clock,  which  revolutionized  the  business  of  clock-making  antl  sent  a 
timepi(.;ce  into  c;very  house.  In  1S41  ht;  sent  a  cargo  of  Connecticut  clocks  to 
England,  billed  at  so  Iowa  figure  that  the  customs  officers  seized  them  for  under- 
valuation, paying  him  his  price  plus  ten  per  cent.,  as  the  law  directed.  The 
second  cargo,  much  to  his  delight,  met  with  the  same  reception.  With  the  third, 
the  tardily-enlightened  Govt-rnment  allowed  him  to  seek  a  less  convenient  cus- 
tomer. The  metal  movem(;nts  wen.;  stamped  from  sheet-brass  so  rapidly  that 
three  men  with  one  machine;  coukl  cut  out  the  works  of  five  hundred  clocks  a 
day,  reducing  the  cost  of  a  clock-movement  to  fifty  cents.  At  this  rate  the  sale 
was  enormous.  Thi;  metal  clocks,  unlike;  the  wood(;n  clocks,  could  stand  any 
climate,  and  this,  with  their  astonishing  cheapness,  gave  them  worldwide 
acceptance. 


^4 


JOHN  JACOB  ASTOR, 


OUR    PIONEER     BUSINESS    MAN    AND    FIRST 

MILLIONAIRE. 


NEX'ER  were  greater  extremes  of  poverty  and 
wealth  connected  in  the  life  of  one  person  than 
were  touched  by  John  Jacob  Astor,  the  founder 
of  one  of  the  first  and  greatest  of  the  enormous 
fortunes  that  have  been  amassed  in  America. 
The  life  of  a  poor  German  peasant  in  the  latter 
part  of  the  eighteenth  century  reached  a  dt.'pth 
of  poverty  which  can  now  hardly  be  conceived 
John  Jacob  Astor  was  born  in  Waldorf,  a  little 
village  of  Baden,  in  1 763,  —  the  year  of  the 
treaty  which  secureil  to  luigland  all  the  fur- 
bearing  country  of  North  America,  from  which 
Astor  was  destined  to  make  such  a  splendid 
fortune.  His  father  was  a  butcher,  a  shiftl<;ss, 
stupid,  quarrelsome  good-for-n(jthing ;  and  the 
son,  bent  upon  making  something  of  himself, 
resolved,  when  about  nineteen,  to  seek  his 
fortune  in  the  "new  land"  of  America,  then 
brought  into  prominence  by  the  Revolution. 

In  March,  1784,  he  landed  at  Baltimore 
On  the  voyage  he  met  a  German,  older  than 
himself  who,  beginning  with  almost  nothing, 
had  become  a  fur  trader,  antl  made  large 
profits,  lie  advised  Astor  to  embark  in  the 
same  business,  which  he  proceedeil  to  do.  He 
had  a  brother  living  in  New  York,  whither  he 
went,  and  succeeded  in  getting  a  position  in 
the  fur  store  of  Robert  Bownt',  a  Quaker, 
where  he  set  himself  to  learn  the  business  in 
the  most  thorough  manner.  Me  bent  all  the 
powers  of  his  remarkable  mind  to  accpiiring  an  intimate  knowledge  of  furs,  and 

471 


A   MODERN    NEW    Yl>KK    STORE. 


472  JOHN  JACOB  ASTOR. 

of  fur-bearing  animals,  and  their  liaunts  and  habits.  1  lis  opportunities  for  doing 
so  were  very  good,  as  many  of  the  skins  were  sold  over  Bowne's  counters  by 
the  hunters  who  had  taken  them.  These  men  he  questioned  with  a  minuteness 
that  astonished  them,  and  the  result  was  that  in  a  few  years  he  was  as  thor- 
oughly familiar  with  the  animals,  their  haljits,  their  country,  and  the  mode  of 
taking  them,  as  many  of  the  trapi)ers  thcMiiselves.  He  is  said  to  have  been  in 
his  prime  the  best  judge  of  furs  in  America. 

As  soon  as  Astor  felt  himself  master  of  his  business,  he  left  the  employ  of 
Mr.  Bowne,  and  began  life  on  his  own  account.  The  field  upon  which  lie  pur- 
posed entering  was  e\tensi\'e,  but  it  was  one  of  which  he  had  made  a  carc-ful  sur- 
vey. The  fur  trade  was  at  this  time  almost  wholly  in  the  hands  of  three  bjiglish 
companies — the  Hudson's  Hay  Company  in  the  north,  the  Northwest  Company 
in  the  Canadas,  the  Mackinaw  Company  in  the  territories  of  the  United  .States 
— and  the  few  American  traders  in  the  field  had  to  rely  on  their  individual 
resources,  with  no  aid  from  a  government  too  feeble  to  do  more  than  establi.sh  a 
few  Indian  agencies,  and  without  constitutional  power  to  confer  charter  privileges. 

The  voyage  of  Captain  Cook  had  brouglit  to  the  notice  of  the  fur  dealers 
of  the  world  the  sea  otter  of  the  northern  Pacific,  and  the  announcement  made 
upon  the  return  of  the  expedition  drew  large  numbers  of  adventurers  to  the 
west  coast  of  America,  in  search  of  the  valuable  skins  of  these  animals. 

It  was  into  this  field,  already  occupied  by  powerful  and  hostile  corporations, 
that  the  young  German  entered.  He  began  business  in  1786,  in  a  small  store 
in  Water  street,  which  he  furnished  with  a  few  toys  and  notions  suited  to  the 
tastes  of  the  Indians  who  had  skins  to  sell.  His  entire  capital  consisted  of 
only  a  few  hundred  dollars,  a  portion  of  which  was  loaned  him  by  his  brother. 
He  had  no  assistants.  He  did  all  his  own  work.  He  bought  his  skins,  cured, 
beat,  and  sold  them  himself 

Several  times  during  the  year  he  made  journeys  on  foot  through  western 
New  York,  buying  skins  from  the  settlers,  farmers,  trappers,  savages,  wherever 
he  could  find  them.  He  tramped  over  nearly  the  entire  State  in  this  way,  and 
is  said  to  have  had  a  better  knowledge  of  its  geography  and  topography  than 
any  man  living. 

He  used  to  boast,  late  in  life,  when  the  Erie  Canal  had  called  into  being  a 
line  of  thriving  towns  through  the  centre  of  the  State,  that  he  had  himself  in 
his  numberless  tramps,  designated  the  sites  of  those  towns,  and  predicted  that 
one  day  they  would  be  the  centres  of  business  and  population.  Particularly  he 
noted  the  spots  where  Rochester  and  Buffalo  now  stand,  one  having  a  harbor 
on  Lake  Erie  and  the  other  upon  Lake  Ontario.  He  predicted  that  those 
places  would  one  day  be  large  and  prosperous  cities  ;  and  that  prediction  he 
made  when  there  was  scarcely  a  settlement  at  Buffalo,  and  only  wigwams  on 
the  site  of  Rochester. 


EXTENDING  HIS  OPERA'l.ONS. 


473 


Slowly,  and  by  unremitting  industry,  Mr.  Astor  succeeded  in  buildintj^  up 
a  certain  business.  His  jjersonul  journeys  made  him  aciiuainted  with  the 
trappers,  and  enabled  him  to  win  their  i^ood  will.  The  sava,<,fes  sold  their  skins 
to  him  reailily,  and  he  found  a  steady  market  and  a  "^^rowiuL;-  demand  for  his 
commodities  in  the  (^Id  World. 

It  was  about  this  time  that  he  married  Miss  Sarah  Todd,  of  New  York. 
She  entered  heartily  into  his  business,  doins^-  much  of  the  buyin;.;  and  beating 
of  the  furs  herself  Long  after  he  was  a  millionaire  he  used  to  boast  of  her 
skill  in  judging  furs  and  conducting  business  operations. 

In  1794.  jay's  tn-aty  placed  the  frontier  forts  in  the  hands  of  the  Amer- 
icans, and  thus  increased  the  opportunities  of  our  own  trader.s  to  extend  their 


CHAMPLAIN'S    fortified   camp    in    (JL'EIIEC. 


business.  It  was  of  the  greatest  service  to  Mr.  Astor.  It  enabled  him  to 
enlarge  the  field  of  his  operations,  and,  at  the  same  time,  to  send  his  agents 
on  the  long  journeys  which  he  formerly  matle,  while  he  himself  remained  in 
New  York  to  direct  his  business,  which  by  this  time  had  grown  to  considerable 
proportions. 

He  was  now  on  the  road  to  wealth.  He  had  scores  of  trappers  and 
hunters  working  for  him  in  the  great  wilderness,  and  his  agents  were  kept  busy 
buying  and  shipping  the  skins  to  New  York.  As  soon  as  he  was  able  to  do 
so  he  purchased  a  ship,  in  which  he  sent  his  furs  to  London,  occasionally 
making  a  voyage  thither  himself. 

Under  his  skillful  management  his  business  grew  rapidly ;  but  he  avoided 
speculation  and  confined  himself  to  legitimate  commerce.     He  was  plain  and 


474  JOHN  JACOB  ASTOR. 

siin])le  in  his  habits,  carryinj^  this  trait  to  an  extreme  lon<^  after  economy  had 
ceased  to  be  necessary  to  him.  He  worked  hard,  inthilcMil  in  no  pleasures 
except  horseback  exercise  and  the  theatre,  of  both  whicii  he  was  \-ery  fond. 
It  was  only  after  he  had  amassed  a  lar^e  fortune  that  he  ever  left  his  business 
before  the  close  of  the  tlay.  Then  he  would  leave  his  countinsj^-room  at  two 
In  the  afternoon,  and,  partaking  of  an  early  dinner,  wouUl  i)ass  the  rest  of  the 
day  in  ridinj^^  about  the  island.  So  plain  was  his  style  of  living  that,  before  he 
became  generally  known  as  a  wealthy  man,  a  bank  clerk  once  superciliously 
informed  him  that  his  endorsement  of  a  note  would  not  be  sufficient,  as  it  was 
not  likely  he  would  be  able  to  pay  it  in  case  the  bank  should  be  forced  to  call 
upon  him. 

"Indeed  !"  said  Mr.  Astor ;  "how  much  do  you  suppose  I  am  worth?" 

The  clerk  named  a  very  mod(  rate  amount,  at  which  the  merchant 
smiled  quietly. 

"Would  the  indorsement  of  Mr.  ,  or  Mr. ,  be  sufficient?"  asked 

Mr.  Astor,  naming  several  well-known  merchants  who  lived  in  great  style. 

"  En  'rely  sufficient,"  was  the  reply.  "Each  one  of  them  is  known  to  be 
wealthy." 

"  How  much  do  you  think  each  is  worth  ?  " 

The  clerk  named  large  sums  in  connection  with  each  of  the  gentlemen. 

"  W^ell,  my  friend,"  saiil  the  merchant,  "I  am  worth  more  than  any  of 
them.  I  will  not  tell  you  how  much  I  am  worth,  but  it  is  more  than  any  sum 
you  have  named." 

The  clerk  looked  at  him  in  surprise,  and  then  said,  bluntly:  "Then  you 
are  a  greater  fool  than  I  took  you  for,  to  work  as  hard  as  you  do." 

Mr.  Astor  was  very  fond  of  telling  this  story,  which  he  regarded  as  one 
of  the  best  jokes  of  the  day. 

All  this  time  Mr.  .A^stor  had  lived  over  his  store,  but  in  1800,  after  he  had 
been  in  business  fifteen  vears,  he  moved  his  dwelling  to  22;  Broadway,  on  the 
site  of  the  .Astor  House  of  to-day.  He  lived  here,  with  one  removal,  for  up- 
ward of  twenty-five  years.  The  house  was  plain  and  simple,  but  he  was 
satisfied  with  it.  He  was  now  worth  a  quarter  of  a  million  dollars,  and  his 
business  was  growing  rapidly.  The  fur  trade  was  exceedingly  profitable.  A 
beaver  skin  could  be  bought  from  the  trappers  in  western  New  York  for  one 
dollar  and  sold  in  London  for  six  dollars  and  a  quarter.  By  investing  this 
amount  in  English  manufactures,  the  six  dollars  and  a  quarter  received  for  the 
skin  could  be  made  to  produce  ten  dollars  paid  for  the  English  goods  in 
New  York. 

The  Chinese  trade  was  also  very  profitable.  China  was  an  excellent 
market  for  furs.  They  brought  high  prices,  and  the  proceeds  could  always 
be  invested  in  teas  and  silks,  which  sold  well  in  New  York.     His  profit  on  a 


476 


JO HX  JACOB  ASTOR. 


voyatje  would  Komctimes  reach  seventy  thousand  dollars,  and  the  averacjc  p;ain 
on  a  lucky  venture  of  this  kind  was  thirty  thousand  dollars.  The  hi_t,di  prices 
produced  hy  the  war  of  1812-15  were  also  in  Mr.  Aster's  favor.  His  ships 
w(!re  all  remarkably  lucky  in  escaping  capture  by  the  enemy,  and  he  was 
almost  the  only  merchant  who  had  a  cargo  of  tea  In  the  market.  Tea 
having  reached  double  its  usual  price,  he  was  enabled  to  reap  immense  profits 

from  his  ventures. 

The  most  important  of  all 
of  Mr.  Astor's  undertak'ngs  was 
his  effort  at  founding  the  setde- 
ment  of  Astoria,  on  the  coast  of 
Oregon.  "  His  design,"  says  a 
writer,  "  was  to  organize  and 
control  the  fur  trade  from  the 
lakes  to  the  Pacific,  by  establish- 
ing trading  posts  along  the  Mis- 
souri and  Cohimbia  to  its  mouth. 
He  designed  establishing  a  cen- 
tral depot  and  post  at  the  mouth 
of  the  Columbia  river.  He  pro- 
posed sending  regular  supply 
ships  to  the  Pacific  posts  around 
Cape  Horn.  It  was  part  of  his 
plan,  if  possible,  to  obtain  pos- 
session of  one  of  the  Sandwich 
Islands  as  a  station,  for  from  the 
Pacific  coast  he  knew  that  the 
Chinese  market  for  his  peltries 
could  be  most  conveniently 
reached,  and  thus  the  necessity 
for  a  long  and  circuitous  voyage 
be  avoided.  Instead  of  bringing 
the  furs  intended  for  China  to 
New  York,  they  could  be  sent 
from  the  Pacific.  By  the  supply  ships,  too,  the  stock  of  goods  suitable  for  the 
Indian  trade  would  be  kejjt  up  there,  and  the  cargoes  purchased  with  the  pro- 
ceeds of  the  furs  sold  in  China  brought  back  to  New  York.  The  line  of  posts 
across  the  continent  would  become  a  line  of  towns ;  emigration  would  follow, 
and  civilization  would  belt  the  continent." 

A  company  was  formed,  at  the  head  of  which  stood  Mr.  Astor,  and  an 
elaborate  and  carefully  arranged  plan  of  operations  prepared.     Two  expeditions 


ANCIENT   BLOCK   HOUSE,   AtASK/C 


FAILCR/i  OF  Tllh  ASTORIA  SCHEME.  477 

were  dispatched  to  the  mouth  of  the  CoKiinhia,  one  by  hind,  the  other  by  sea. 
Many  hardships  were  encountered,  but  tlie  foundation  of  a  settlement  was  suc- 
cessfully made  on  the  Columbia.  In  sjjite  of  iIk;  war  with  Kni;land  ( iSi  2-' 15), 
the  enterjirise  would  have  been  successful  had  Mr.  Astor's  positive  instruc- 
tions been  obeyed.  They  were  utterly  disrejj^artled,  however,  and  his  partners 
and  a.ijents  not  only  betrayed  him  in  every  instance,  but  solil  his  property  to  a 
rival  British  company  for  a  mere  trille.  His  pecuniary  loss  was  over  a  million 
dollars,  and  his  disappointment  bitt(.'r  beyontl  expression.  Wht-n  the  news  of 
the  final  betrayal  reached  him,  he  wrote  :  "  1  lad  our  place  and  property  bt^en 
fairly  captured,  I  should  have  preferred  it ;  1  should  not  feel  as  if  1  were  dis- 
graced." 

Mr.  Aster  remained  in  active  business  for  fifty  years.  Durin;.,''  that  entire 
period  he  scarcely  committed  an  error  of  judi^ment  which  led  to  a  loss  in  busi- 
ness. He  was  thorou<,di  master  of  everythini^-  pertaining,''  to  his  affairs,  anil  his 
strength  antl  accuracy  of  judiLjment  were  remarkable.  The  particulars  of  his 
transactions  were  indelibly  impressett  upon  his  mind.  His  intellect  was  vi^;or- 
ous  and  quick,  and  he  grasped  a  subject  with  a  readiness  which  seemed  like 
intuition.  He  was  always  careful  of  the  present,  but  he  loved  to  undertake 
enter|)riscs  which  extended  far  into  the  future.  He  was  a  man  of  the  utmost 
punctuality  in  all  his  habits.  He  rose  early,  anil,  until  he  was  fifty-five  years 
old,  was  always  in  his  office  before  seven  o'clock.  His  capacity  for  work  was 
very  great,  so  that,  in  spite  of  his  heavy  labors,  he  was  always  able  to  leave  his 
office  by  two  o'clock,  while  many  of  his  associates,  who  really  did  less  than  he, 
were  compelled  to  remain  in  their  counting-rooms  until  four  or  five. 

One  chief  source  of  Mr.  Astor's  great  wealth  was  his  shrewd  investments 
in  real  estate,  and  the  great  rise  in  values  of  New  York  property  which  have 
resulted  from  the  steady  growth  of  the  greatest  city  of  the  American  continent. 
In  the  early  part  of  his  career  New  York  was  little  more  than  a  town  occu|)ymg 
part  of  the  lower  end  of  Manhattan  Island  ;  the  upper  end  was  occupied  chietly 
by  farms  and  country  residences.  Mr,  Astor,  with  shrewd  foresight,  systemati- 
cally  invested  his  spare  capital  in  suburban  land,  which  before  the  time  of  his 
death  had  by  its  increase  in  value  added  many  millions  to  the  great  estate  which 
he  left  to  his  children. 

During  the  last  twenty  years  of  his  life  Mr.  Astor  lived  in  the  retirement 
of  his  family,  leaving  even  the  greater  part  of  the  management  of  his  estate  to 
the  hands  of  others.  He  was  exceedingly  fond  of  literary  men.  Irving  was 
his  friend,  and  Halleck  his  business  manager.  He  died  at  the  age  of  eighty-four 
years  and  eight  months,  literally  from  old  age.  He  was  buried  in  St.  Thomas's 
Church,  on  Broadway. 

His  immense  estate  was  left  to  his  children,  the  bulk  of  it  being  bequeathed 
to  his  eldest  son.  All  of  his  relatives  were  made  comfortable.  The  village  of 
a8 


*7^  JOHN  J^XCOB  ASTOR. 

Waldorf,  his  native  place,  received  a  legacy  of  fifty  thousand  dollars  for  the 
benefit  of  its  poor,  and  an  amount  in  land  and  finuls  etjual  to  four  hundred 
thousand  dollars  was  left  to  certain  trustees  to  establish  the  Astor  Library  in 
the  city  of  New  York.  Besides  these,  several  charitable  and  benevolent  asso- 
ciations received  handsome  donations  from  him. 

His  career  has  been  related  in  these  pages  as  an  example  to  those  who  are 
seekm.fr  to  rise  in  legitimate  commerce.  It  is  the  best  instance  on  record  of  the 
facility  with  which  success  may  be  won  by  patient  and  intelligent  industry.  .In 
his  capacity  for  grasping  and  carrying  out  an  enterprise,  in  his  prudent  and 
economical  management  of  his  business,  in  his  tact,  courage,  sagacity,  Mr. 
Astors  example  is  one  which  will  lead  many  to  success,  and  none  to^ injury. 


48o 


GEORGE  PEABODY, 

OUR    FIRST    MILUIONAIRt:     PHILANTHROPIST. 

'MOXG  the  distinctive  proiliicts  of  the  nineteenth  century  is 
the  modern  millionaire:  and  like  other  products,  this  one  has 
been  t^reatly  devel{)i)eci  and  improved  from  the  crude  form 
in  which  it  first  appeared.  One  would  hardly  reco^^nize, 
in  contemplatini^  the  works  of  (jeorj^^e  \V.  Childs  or 
Lelaiul  Stanford,  that  th -y  belonged  to  the  same  species  as 
Stephen  Girard  and  John  Jacob  Astor.  The  first  million- 
aires couKl  only  ,;'</,•  t.iey  could  not  give.  They  could 
iciii'c — since  indeed  theycouUl  not  help  lca\ing;  but  as  to  volun- 
tarily j^iviui^f  what  thi'y  had  ^^nx.,  that  faculty  was  not  yet  devcl- 
The  two  qualities  were,  in  fact,  quite  naturally  supposed  to  be 
incompatible.  A  rich  man  who  scattered  his  riches  seemed  an  ab- 
surdity— a  contradiction  in  terms.  lUit  presently  arose  a  man  who  showed 
how  such  a  thinij  could  be,  hy  bciiio^  it.  lie  invented,  and  in  himself  developed, 
a  new  and  most  beneficent  function  ;  and  to  him.  as  to  other  r^reat  inventors 
and  pioneers,  mankinil  loves  to  pay  tribute  of  well-deserveil  love  and  honor. 
His  name  is  Geor^je  Peabody. 

Mr.  Peabody  was  born  in  Danvers,  Massachusetts,  on  February  i8,  1 795. 
His  parents  were  poor,  and  hard  work  was  the  lot  to  which  \\v.  was  born.  Mis 
education  was  limited,  for  he  was  taken  from  school  at  the  ai;e  of  eleven,  and 
set  to  earnin;^'  his  living,''.  I'pon  leavin^j  school  he  was  apprenticed  to  a  Mr. 
Sylvester  Proctor,  who  kept  a  "  country  store  "  in  Danxers.  Mere  he  worked 
hard  and  faithfully  for  four  or  five  years,  devotiu'.,'-  himself  with  enert^y  and 
determination  to  business.  Mis  mind  matured  more  rapidly  than  his  body,  and 
he  was  a  man  in  intellect  lon^"  before  he  was  out  o'  his  teens. 

At  the  age  of  sixteen,  in  the  year  iSii,  he  went  to  Xewbur}'port,  and 
became  a  clerk  in  the  store  of  his  ekler  brother,  Daviil  Peabody,  w'.io  vvas 
engaged  in  the  dry  goods  business  at  that  place.  Me  exhibited  unusual  capa- 
city and  promise  in  his  calling,  and  soon  drew  upon  himself  the  favorable  atten- 
tion of  the  merchants  of  the  place.  Me  was  prompt,  reliable,  and  energetic, 
d.nd  from  the  first  established  an  enviable  reputation  for  personal  and  profes- 

481 


.^^2  GliORGIi  riiA/ionv. 

si'v)!Kil  iiUci^ril)'.  I  Ic  (lid  imt  st.u'  Idiilt  in  \c\vl)iiry|M>rt.  as  n  L;r<Mt  fire,  whicli 
biinictl  up  a  coiisidcraMt'  i!;'.rt  <il  ihr  tDwii,  tlfNlroycil  liis  brother's  store,  and 
obliL;'(,'d  him  to  seek  cmploNini'iU  elsewhere. 

From  New  |-'.nL;hii)d.  ( ieori^e  i'eabody  turned  liis  taii'  southward,  and 
entered  lh(t  emphjyment  of  his  uncle.  Mr.  John  I'eabody,  who  was  en^a^^e^l  in 
tile  drv  l;(>o(1s  business  in  ( leor^ctow  11,  in  the  Pistrirt  ol  L'ohnnbia.  llis  uncle 
wa-1  a  poor  man  and  a  bad  manager,  ancl  tor  two  \-ear~.  lin'  busiiie-is  was  con 
ducteil  bv  ( ieort;!'  Teabodw  and  iU  his  own  name;  Inil  at  tlie  c\m\  of  tliat  time, 
seeim^'  the  bu-^iiiess  threatened  with  ruin  b\'  his  uncle's  iiKapacit\'.  he  ri'si^^ned 
his  situation,  and  entered  lh<'  service  ot  Mr.  bdisha  Kii;^-^.  who  h.ul  just  estab- 
lished a  wholesale  dr\'  i_;oods  house  in  ( ieoreetown.  Mr.  Ui.L^^s  furnished  tht 
capital  for  tin;  concern,  and  Mr.  I'eabody  was  ^iven  the  manaiL^ement  of  it 
Soon  after  this,  the  latter  became  a  partner  in  the  hous(^  It  is  said  that  when 
Mr.  Rij^'ii's  invitt'd  Mr.  Pealjody  to  become  his  i)arlner.  the  latter  informed  him 
that  he  could  not  lee-ally  assume  the  responsibilities  of  busint-ss,  as  he  was  only 
nineteen  years  old.  This  was  no  objt^ction  in  the  mind  of  the  merchant,  as  he 
wanteil  a  youn^"  and  active  assistant,  and  had  discerni'd  in  his  boy-manager 
the  qualities  which  never  fail  to  win  success. 

The  new  business  in  which  he  was  enj^ajj^cd  consisted  chietly  in  the  im[)or- 
tation  and  sale  of  European  ijoods,  and  consiyrnments  of  tlry  eoods  from  the 
northern  cities.  It  extended  over  a  witle  field,  and  yave  Mr.  I'eabod\-  a  fine 
opi)()rtunity  for  the  display  of  his  abilities.  I\Ir.  Rigys's  friends  l)lame<l  him 
\ery  much  for  h.'avinq'  his  business  so  entirely  in  the  hanils  o\  a  lioy  of  nine- 
teen ;  l)ut  he  hail  better  proof  than  they  that  his  affairs  were  not  only  in  l;oo(1, 
but  in  the  best  hands,  and  he  answered  them  all  by  telline'  them  tliat  time 
woukl  justify  his  course.  Mr.  Peabody  traveled  extensively  in  establishine  his 
business,  often  journeyine-  into  the  wild  and  unsettled  regions  of  the  border 
States  on  horseback.  He  worked  with  energy  antl  intellie-ence,  and  in  1S15 
the  business  was  found  to  be  so  extensive  that  a  removal  to  P)altimore  bt-came 
necessary.  About  this  time  a  banking  business  was  acided  to  the  operations 
of  the  house.  This  was  chielly  the  suegi-stion  ol  Mr.  Peabody,  and  proved  a 
source  of  e-r(>,it  pnMit. 

Mr.  I'eaboily  cpiickly  took  a  prominent  rank  among  th(!  merchants  of 
Ikdtimore.  llis  manner  was  frank  and  engaging,  and  won  him  many  friends. 
Ht;  was  noted  for  "a  jutlgment  (juick  and  cauti(jus.  clear  and  sound,  a  tlecided 
purpose,  a  firm  will,  eiun-getic  and  persevering  industry,  punctuality  and  fidelity 
in  every  engagement,  justice  and  honor  controlling  every  transaction,  and 
courtesy — that  triu?  courtesy  which  s])rings  from  genuine  kindness — presiding 
ovt'r  the  intercourse  of  life."  1  lis  Inisiness  continued  to  increasi',  and  in  iSj2 
it  became  necessary  to  establish  branches  in  Philadelphia  and  Xew  'S'ork,  over 
which    Mr.    Peabody  exercised  a    careful    supervision.       He  was    thoroughly 


RlDh^'AL  TO  f.XilLAXD. 


4>^3 


familiar  with  cvctn'  detail  oi  his  husincss,  and  inner  sullcrcl  his  \iL;ilaiice  td 
relax,  howt'vcr  conipciciu  ini!^hr  \h:  tin-  suliDnlinati's  in  tin:  iinincdi.iu-  charm; 
of  those  details,  in  iSj;  In:  wi-iU  to  laii^land  on  business  for  his  tirni.  aiul  dur 
wv:^  the  next  ten  years  made  h'ecpu'nt  \i>yaL;es  !)el\v<'en  Xi>\v  N'ork  and  I.ontlon 
In  iSjq  Mr.  I\i.u;,^s  withdrew  trom  the  tirin.  .uul  Mr.  I'ecdiody  liecame  the 
actual  head  of  the  hous«;,  the 


style  of  the  firm,  which  had 
])re\iously  l>een  "  Ki,L,'',L,''s  t.\: 
I'eahotly."  bein;^-  ch.an^ed  to 
"  I'eabody,  Rii^^s  ^\:  Co." 
'The  tirm  h.ul  for  some  time 
been  thi'  rniaiuial  aL;('nts  of 
th(i  State  of  Maryland,  aiul 
had  mana^eil  the  negotia- 
tions confided  to  them  with 
ureat  skill  and  success  ;  and 
every  vt.'ar  their  bankini;'  dt:- 
jjartment  became  more  im- 
portant and  more  profitable. 

In  1S36  Mr.  Peabody 
determined  to  extend  his 
business,  which  was  alreatly 
very  lai\ne,  to  En_L,dand,  and 
to  ojx'n  a  branch  house  in 
London.  in  1837  he  re- 
movetl  to  that  city  for  the 
purpose  of  taking'  charge  of 
his  house  there,  and  from 
that  time  London  became 
his  home. 

The  summer  of  this 
year  was  markeil  by  one  of 
the  most  terrible  commercial 
crises  the  I'nited  .States  has 
ever  known.  .V  kirg('  num- 
ber of  the  banks  suspendetl 

specie  payment,  and  the  majority  of  the  mercantili;  houses  were  either  ruined 
or  in  the  greatest  distress.  Thousaiuls  of  merchants,  until  then  pr()S|)erous. 
were  hopelessly  ruined.  •' Hiat  great  symi)athetic  nerve  of  the  commercial 
world,  credit,"  said  Ltlward  Lverett,  "as  far  as  the  I'nited  .Stat(!s  was  con- 
cerned, was  for  the   time   paraly/ed.     At  that   moment   Mr.  I'eabotly  not  only 


.MODKK.S    SlOKKS    l.N    IIObTO.N. 


484  GEORGE  PEABODY. 

stood  firm  himself,  but  was  the  cause  of  firmness  in  others.  There  were 
not  at  that  time,  probably,  half  a  dozen  other  mt;n  in  Europe  who,  upon  the 
subject  of  American  securities,  would  have  been  listened  to  for  a  moment  in 
the  parlor  of  the  Hank  of  l-ji^land.  Hut  his  judL,nnent  commanded  respect; 
his  intei^rity  won  back  the  reliance  which  men  had  been  accustomed  to  place 
on  American  securities.  The  reprt)ach  in  which  they  were  all  involved  was 
gradually  wiped  away  from  those  of  a  substantial  charactc:r ;  and  if  on  this 
solid  basis  of  unsuspected  good  faith,  he  reared  his  own  prosperity  let  it  be 
remembered  that  at  the  same  time  he  retrieved  the  credit  of  the  State  of  Mary- 
land, of  which  he  was  agent — performing  that  miracle  by  which  the  word  of  an 
honest  man  turns  paper  into  goUl." 

The  conduct  of  Mr.  Peaboily,  as  well  as  the  evidimccs  which  he  gave  of  his 
remarkable  capacity  for  business,  in  this  crisis,  placed  him  among  the  foremost 
merchants  of  London.  He  carried  on  his  business  upon  a  large  scale  from  his 
base  of  operations  in  that  city.  He  bought  Hritish  manufactures  in  all  parts  of 
Kngland  and  shipped  them  to  the  United  States.  His  vessels  brought  back  in 
return  all  kinds  of  American  proiluce  which  would  command  a  ready  sale  in 
England.  Profitable  as  these  ventures  were,  there  was  another  branch  of  his 
business  much  more  remunerative  to  him.  The  merchants  and  manufacturers 
on  both  sides  of  the  Atlantic  who  consigned  their  goods  to  him,  frequently  pro- 
cured from  him  advances  upon  the  goods  long  before  they  were  sold.  At  other 
times  they  would  leave  large  sums  in  his  hands  long  after  the  goods  were  dis- 
posed of  knowing  that  they  could  draw  whenever  tht^y  needed,  and  that  in  the 
meanwhile  their  money  was  being  so  profitably  invested  that  they  were  certain 
of  a  proper  interest  for  their  loans.  Thus  Mr.  Peabody  gradually  became  a 
banker,  in  which  pursuit  he  was  as  successful  as  he  had  been  as  a  merchant.  In 
1S43  he  withdrew  from  the  house  of  Peabody.  Riggs  &  Co.,  and  established  the 
house  of  "  George  Peabody  &  Company,  of  Warnford  Court,  City." 

His  dealings  were  chielly  with  America  and  in  American  securities,  and  he 
was  always  regarded  as  one  of  the  best  specimens  of  the  American  merchant 
ever  seen  in  London.  He  was  verv  iiroud  of  his  country  ;  and  thouoh  he 
passed  so  many  years  of  his  life  abroad,  he  never  forgot  that  he  was  an  Amer- 
ican. In  sijeaking  of  the  manner  in  which  he  organized  his  business  establish- 
ment, he  once  said  :  "  I  have  endeavored,  in  the  constitution  of  its  members  and 
the  character  of  its  business,  to  make  it  an  .American  house,  and  to  give  it  an 
American  atmosphen;  ;  to  furnish  it  with  American  journals  ;  to  make  it  a  cen- 
tre of  American  news,  and  an  agreeable  place  for  my  American  friends  visiting 
London." 

It  was  his  custom,  from  his  first  settlement  in  England,  to  celebrate  the 
anniversary  of  the  independence  of  his  country  by  an  entertainment  at  one  of 
the  public  houses  in  the  city,  to  which  the  most  distinguished  Americans  in 


AID   TO  AMERICAX  EXHUUTORS  LV  /Sj/.  485 

London  were  always  invited,  as  were  also  many  of  the  [ironiinent  men  of  Cireat 
Britain  ;  and  this  dinner  was  only  discontinued  in  deference  to  the  t^eneral  cele- 
bration of  the  tlav  which  was  afterward  instituted  by  the  whole  body  of  Ameri- 
cans  resident  in  the  British  metropolis.  In  th(.'  year  1S51,  when  it  was  thoui^dit 
that  there  would  be  no  re[)resentation  of  the  achi(,'\ements  of  American  skill 
and  industry  in  the  j^^reat  exhibiticjn  of  that  year,  from  a  lack  of  funds,  Mr. 
Peabody  generously  supplied  the  sum  of  fifteen  thousand  ihjllars.  which  enableil 
the  commissioners  to  make  a  suitable  display  of  the  American  contributions. 
Said  the  Hon.  lulward  Everett,  alludin;^  to  this  act: — 

"  In  most,  perhaps  in  all  other  countries,  this  exhibition  had  b(;en  a  govern- 
ment affair.  Commissioners  were  appointed  by  authority  to  protect  the  interests 
of  the  exhibitors  ;  and,  what  was  more  important,  appro[)riations  of  money  had 
been  made  to  defray  their  expenses.  Xo  ai)propriations  were  made  by  Con- 
gress. Our  exhibitors  arrived  friendless,  some  of  them  penniless,  in  the  great 
commercial  IJabel  of  the  world.  They  found  the  portion  of  the  Crystal  Palace 
assigned  to  our  country  unprepared  for  th(i  specimens  of  art  and  industry  which 
they  had  brought  with  them  ;  naked  and  unadorned  by  the  side  of  the  neighbor- 
ing arcades  and  galleries  fitted  up  with  elegance  and  splendor  by  the  richest 
governments  in  Europe.  The  English  press  began  to  launch  its  too  ready  sar- 
casms at  the  sorry  appearance  which  Brother  Jonathan  seemed  likely  to  make  ; 
and  all  the  exhibitors  from  this  country,  as  well  as  those  who  felt  an  interest  in 
their  success,  were  disheartened.  At  this  critical  moment,  our  friend  stepjied 
forward.  He  did  what  Congress  should  have  done.  By  liberal  advances  on 
his  part,  the  American  department  was  fitted  up  ;  and  day  after  day,  as  some 
new  product  of  American  Ingenuity  an<.l  taste  was  added  to  the  list, — McCor- 
mick's  reaper,  Colt's  revolver,  Powers's  (ireek  Slave,  Hobbs's  unnickable  lock. 
Hoe's  wonderful  pru^ting  presses,  and  Pjontl's  more  wonderful  spring  govtn'nor, 
— it  began  to  be  suspected  that  Brother  Jonathan  was  not  quite  so  much  of  a 
simpleton  as  had  been  thought.  He  had  contributed  his  full  share,  if  not  to  the 
splendor,  at  least  to  the  utilities  of  the  exhibition.  In  fact,  the  leading  journal 
at  Loadon,  with  a  magnanimity  which  did  it  honor,  admitted  that  P'ngland  had 
der^ed  more  real  benefit  from  the  contributions  of  the  United  States  than  from 
those  of  any  other  country." 

HIS    lUSIXKSS    IIAIUTS. 

As  has  been  said,  Mr.  Peabody  made  the  bulk  of  his  colossal  fortune  in  the 
banking  business.  He  had  a  firm  faith  in  American  s(!curities,  and  dealt  in 
them  largely,  and  with  confidence.  His  businijss  instinct  was  remarkable,  his 
judgment  in  mercantile  and  financial  matters  almost  infallible,  and  he  made;  few 
mistakes.  His  course  was  now  onward  and  upward,  and  each  year  marked 
an  increase  of  his  wealth.  His  business  operations  were  conducted  in  pursu- 
ance  of  a  rigid  system  which  was  never  lelaxed.     To  the  very  close  of  his  life 


486 


GEO  Ran  PEM'ODY. 


he  never  abandoned  th(,' (;\act  or  business  lik.*-  manner  in  which  he  soui:^ht  to 
make  money.  1  le  L,'ave  away  milHons  witli  a  i^eiK-rosity  never  excelled,  yet  he 
could  be  exacting-  to  a  penny  in  thc^  fullillment  of  a  contract. 


rKliDllK    i:.\rll  ANi.K   111  ll.DINr,,   m;w    vhkk. 


The  conductor  on  an  English  railway  once  overcharoed  him  a  shilling-  foi 
fare.  He  promptly  complaineti  to  the  directors,  and  had  the  man  dischary^ed 
"Not,"  said  he,  "that  I  could  not  afford  to  pay  the  shilling,  but  the  man  was 
cheating  many  travelers  to  whom  the  swindle  would  be  oppressive." 


PERSO.VAL  CffARACThRfSTfCS.  487 

In  his  youth  he  contracted  liahits  of  economy,  ami  lliese  he  retained  to  the 
last.  HeinL;-  unmarried,  he  tlid  not  suhji-ct  himself  to  the  e.\])ense  of  a  complete 
domestic  eslaljlishm<;nt,  but  lived  in  chamhers,  and  entertaini.'d  his  friends  at  his 
club  or  at  a  cotfee-house.  His  habits  were  simple  in  every  rt  s|)ect.  and  he  was 
often  seen  makin;^^  his  dinner  on  a  mutton-chop  at  a  table  laden  (at  his  cost) 
with  the  most  sumptuous  and  t(niptinL;'  viamls.  llis  jx-rsonal  e.\j)enses  lor  ten 
years  did  not  averai^e  three  thousand  dollars  per  annum. 

In  his  tlress  Mr.  ^Y-abody  was  sim[)le  and  unostentatious.  He  was  scrupu- 
lously neat  and  tasteful,  but  there  was  nothiuL;'  about  him  to  indicate  his  vast 
wealth.  He  seldom  wore  any  j»;welry,  usin^^'-  merely  a  black  band  for  his  watch- 
guard.     Display  of  all  kinds  he  abominated. 

He  made  several  visits  to  his  native  country  dunn<;  his  last  residence  in 
London,  and  commemorated  each  one  of  them  by  acts  of  princely  munificence 
He  gave  large  sums  to  the  cause  of  education,  and  to  religious  and  charitable 
objects,  anil  made  each  one  of  his  near  kindr<id  wealthy.  None  of  his  relatives 
received  less  than  one  hundred  thousand  dollars,  and  some  were  given  as  much 
as  three  times  that  sum.  He  gave  immense  sums  to  the  poor  of  London,  and 
became  their  benefactor  to  such  an  extent  that  Queen  X'ictoria  sent  him  her 
portrait,  which  she  had  caused  to  be  executed  for  him  at  a  cost  of  over  forty 
thousand  dollars,  in  token  of  her  appreciation  of  his  services  in  behalf  of  the 
poor  of  her  realm. 

Mr.  Peabody  made  another  visit  to  the  United  States  in  1.S66,  and  upon 
this  occasion  added  large  sums  to  many  of  the  donations  he  had  already  made 
in  this  country.  He  remained  here  until  May,  1867,  when  he  returned  to 
Lngland.  He  came  back  in  June,  1S69,  but  soon  sailed  again  for  England. 
His  health  had  become  \ery  feeble,  and  it  was  his  belief  that  it  would  be  better 
in  the  atmosphere  of  London,  to  which  he  had  been  so  long  accustomed.  His 
hope  of  recovery  was  vain.  He  failed  to  rally  upon  reaching  London,  and  died 
in  that  city  on  the  4th  of  November,  1869. 

The  news  of  h.is  death  created  a  profound  sadness  on  both  sides  of  the 
Atlantic,  for  his  native  and  his  adopted  country  alike  revered  him  as  a  benefac- 
tor. The  Queen  caused  his  body  to  be  placed  in  a  vault  in  Westminster  Abbey, 
amidst  the  greatest  and  noblest  of  her  kingdom,  until  all  was  in  readiness  for  its 
transportation  to  the  United  States  in  a  royal  man-of-war.  The  Congress  of 
the  Lhiited  States  authorized  the  President  to  make  such  arrangements  for  the 
reception  of  the  body  as  he  should  deem  necessary.  Sovereigns,  statesmen, 
and  warriors  united  to  do  homage  to  the  mortal  remains  of  this  i)lain,  simple 
man,  who,  beginning  life  a  poor  boy,  and  never  departing  from  the  character  of 
an  unassuiring  citiztm,  had  made  humanity  his  debtor  by  his  generosity  and 
goodness.  He  was  borne  across  the  ocean  with  kingly  honors,  two  great  nations 
acting  as  chief  mourners,  and  then,  when  the  pomp  and  the  splendor  of  the 


488  GEORGE  J'hABODY. 

oocasion  were  ended,  they  laid  him  down  in  liis  native  earth  by  the  side  of  the 
mother  from  whom  he  \r.v\  imbibed  those  principles  of  integrity  and  goodness 
which  were  the  foundation  of  his  fame  and  fortune. 

It  is  impossible  to  obtain  an  accurate  statement  of  the  donations  made  by 
Mr,  Peabody  to  the  objects  which  enlisted  his  sympathy.  In  addition  to  those 
mentioned  in  the  list  below,  he  gave  away  for  various  public  purposes  sum;- 
ranging  from  two  hundred  and  fifty  to  one  thousand  dollars,  and  extending 
back  as  far  as  the  year  1S35,  He  divided  among  his  relatives  the  sum  of  about 
three  millions  of  dollars,  giving  them  a  portion  during  his  last  visit  to  this 
country,  ami  leaving  them  the  remainder  at  his  death. 

The  following  is  a  statement  of  his  more  important  donations  during  his 
life,  including  the  bequests  contained  in  his  last  will  and  testament: — 

To  tlie  State  of  Maryland,  fur  ne<,'f)tiatiiii,' the  loan  of  $8,000,000,  .    .    .  $60,000 

To  the  lVal)ocly  Institute,  Haltimore,  Md.,  inchiding  accrued  interest,  .  1,500.000 

To  the  Southern  Education  Fund, 3,000,000 

To  Yale  College 150,000 

To  Harvard  College, 150,000 

To  I'eabody  Academy,  Massachusetts, 140,000 

To  Phillips  Academy,  Massachusetts 2:5.000 

To  Peahody  Institute,  etc.,  at  Peabody,  Massachusetts, 250,000 

To  Kenyon  College,  C)hio, 25,000 

To  Memorial  Church,  in  Georgetown,  Massachusetts, 100,000 

To  Homes  for  the  Poor  in  Ixindon, 3,000.000 

To  Libraries  in  C.eorgetown,  Mass,achusetts,  and  Thetford,  Vermont,     ,  10,000 

To  Kane's  Arctic  P^xpedition, to. 000 

To  different  Sanitary  Fairs 10,000 

To  unpaid  nionexs  advanced  to  uphold  the  credit  of  States 40,000 


Total, 


$8,470,000 


The  good  gift.s  of  Mr.  Peabody  are  every  day  building  for  him  new  and 
enduring  moniunents.  The  poor  in  London  bless  his  memory,  suppo.sing  him 
to  be  an  Englishman  :  while  the  people  of  Baltimore  and  the  South,  who  are 
aided  in  their  education  by  the  great  fund  which  he  established,  or  the  institute 
which  bears  his  name,  join  with  the  thousands  beyond  the  sea  in  keeping  his 


name  enshrined  in  grateful  hearts. 


'^rif^'-^ 


§^ 


URsI     IKAIN    Ol     CAKa    IN    AMtKICA. 


CORNELIUS  VANDERBILT, 

AND    TI-iK    STOKY    OF    AXIKRICAX     RAILROADS. 


.  -  —  TATHN  ISLAXD  lies  in  the  beautiful  bay  of  New  York, 

*   /^^^BE^Sf-.^'        seven   miles   distant   from   the  i,M-eat  city.       Its   lofty 

hei,L,dits  shut  in  the;  snu<,f  anchora,n"e  of  the  inner  bay, 
and  protect  it  from  storms.  It  lies  full  in  si<^dit  of  the 
city,  and  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful  and  attractive  of 
its  suburbs.  The  commanding;"  heights  and  embow- 
ered shores  are  covered  with  villas  and  cottaL,^es,  and  it 
contains  a  large  and  llourishin^j  population. 

A  century  ago,  Staten  Island  was  a  mere  country 
''^  settlement,  and  its  communications  with  the  city  were 
maintained  by  means  of  a  few  sail-boats,  which  made  one  trip 
each  way  per  day. 
One  of  these  boats  was  owned  and  navigated  by  Cornelius  \'anderbilt,  a 
thriving  farmer,  who  owned  a  small  but  well  cultivated  estate  on  .Staten  Island, 
near  the  present  Quarantine  grounds.  He  was  generally  regarded  as  one  of 
the  most  prudent  and  reliable  men  on  the  island.  Having  a  considerable 
amount  of  produce  to  sell  in  the  city,  he  purchased  a  boat  of  his  own  for  the 
purpose  of  transporting  it  thither.  l'rec[uently,  residents  of  the  island  would 
secure  passage  in  this  boat  to  the  city  in  the  morning,  and  ri'turn  with  it  in  the 
evening.  This  was  the  beginning  of  the  New  York  and  .Staten  Island  ferry. 
His  wife  was  a  woman  of  more  than  usual  character,  and  aided  him  nobly  in 
making  his  way  in  the  world. 

This  admirable  couple  were  blessed  with  nine  children.  The  oldest  of 
these,  Cornelius,  was  born  at  the  old  farmhouse  on  .Staten  Island,  on  the  27th 
of  May,  1794.  He  was  a  healthy,  active  boy,  fond  of  all  manner  of  out-door 
sports,  and  manifesting  an  unusual  repugnance  to  the  confinement  and  labors 
of  the  school-room.  He  was  passionately  fond  of  the  water,  and  was  never  so 
well  pleased  as  when  his  father  allowed  him  to  assist  in  sailing  his  boat. 

491 


492  COKXIiL/rs  VAXDhRIULT. 

\Vh(..'ii  \\v  was  only  twelve  y<';u's  old,  his  lather  coiitractetl  to  reiiidvc  the 
cai'L;o  from  a  ^\\\\>  which  had  i^oiie  .eihnn'  ne.ir  Sandy  Nook,  and  to  idiivey  it 
to  New  \'cjrk.  The  lii^hters  which  were  ti)  (.arry  the  L;nods  to  the  lity  roiild 
not  reach  the  .shi[»,  and  it  was  necessary  to  haul  tlu;  c.iri^o,  tr.inspdrted  in 
wagons,  across  th<.'  sanils  troin  tln'  vessel  to  tiieni.  in  spite  of  his  tender  aqt?, 
little  Cornelius  w.is  |>lac<;tl  by  his  father  in  ch,irL;(;  of  th('  uiulert.d<inL;,  which 
he  accomplislud  promptly  and  successtuUy.  1 1<-  lo. uhd  his  lii^luers.  sent  them 
up  to  New  \'ork,  and  then  started  for  home;  with  his  wa^^ons.  I'pon  reachin:^ 
South  Amboy,  whert-  he  was  tu  i  ross  over  to  Staten  Island,  he  fi)und  himself 
with  his  wagons,  horses,  anil  men,  without  any  money  to  pay  his  ferriage  .uross 
to  the  island.  I  h<  ferriaiL,^e  would  amount  to  six  dollars,  ami  how  hi'  was  to 
raise  this  sum  he  w.is,  for  a  time,  at  a  loss  to  delermin(^  I"inally,  he  went  to 
the  keepi'r  of  the  la\ern,  to  whom  he  was  a  stranj^tT,  and  asked  for  the  loan 
of  six  dollars,  otierint,,''  to  lea\(;  om;  of  his  iiors(;s  as  a  pledge  for  the  money, 
which  he  promised  to  return  within  two  days.  The  ta\  ern-kc;eper  was  so  well 
pleased  with  thi;  boy's  (MK'r^y  that  h(,'  loaned  him  th(i  money,  and  the  party 
cros.scd  over  to  .Staten  island.      Tlur  pawneil  horse  w.is  promptly  redeemed. 

Youhl,"  X'anderbilt  w,is  always  anxious  to  becom*.-  a  sailor,  and,  as  he 
ajjproached  his  se\-enteenth  year,  he  detiM'mined  to  be^^in  life  as  a  boatman  in 
th(;  harbor  of  .\ew  N'ork.  ( )n  the  i  st  of  May,  iSio,  he  informed  his  mothi^r 
of  his  determination,  and  askeil  her  to  lend  him  one  hundretl  dollars  to  buy 
a  boat.  The  <^ciOi\  huly  had  always  op{)osed  her  son's  wish  to  l,^o  to  sea,  and 
reii^arded  this  new  scheme  as  ecjually  hare-brained.  .\s  a  means  of  discour- 
ai^ing  him,  she  told  lum  if  he  would  plow,  harrow,  and  plant  with  corn  a  certain 
ten-acre  lot  belonj^ini^  io  the  farm,  by  the  twenty-se\enth  of  that  month,  on 
which  tlay  he  wouUl  be  seventeen  years  old,  she  would  lend  him  the  money. 
'I'he  fiekl  was  the  worst  in  the;  whole  farm  ;  it  was  rou_L;h,  hard,  and  stony ; 
but  l>y  the  appointed  time  the  work  was  done,  and  well  done,  ami  the  boy 
claimeil  and  received  his  money,  lie  hurried  off  to  a  neij^diborin^;'  vilhi^c",  and 
bouL^ht  his  boat,  in  which  Ik;  set  out  for  home.  He  had  not  ^one  far,  however, 
when  the  boat  struck  a  sunken  wreck,  and  tilled  so  rajiidly  that  the  boy  had 
barely  time  to  Ljet  into  shoal  water  before  it  sank. 

"Undismayed  at  this  mishap,"  says  l\irton,  "he  bei^^an  his  new  career. 
His  success,  as  we  hav<;  intimated,  was  speetly  anil  i^reat.  He  made  a  thou- 
sand dollars  ilurini^-  each  of  the  next  three  summi'rs.  Often  he  worked  all 
nio-ht ;  but  he  was  never  absent  from  his  i)ost  bv  dav.  and  he  soon  had  th.e 
cream  of  the  boatintj  business  of  the  port." 

Durinf,^  the  War  of  1S12,  youn;^  Vanderbilt  was  kept  very  busy.  All  the 
harbor  defenses  were  fully  manned,  and  a  number  of  war  vessels  were  in  port 
all  the  time.  The  travel  between  these  and  the  city  was  very  g^reat,  and  boat- 
men were  in  demand. 


n/S  MAKK/.IGI-:. 


493 


Ilt^uas  now  so  prosperous  in  his  callin;^  ili.ii  lie  ilct(;nninfil  to  ni,irr\'.  lie 
hat!  woocjd  and  won  th<:  hc.irt  ot  Sophia  Juhn>>on.  tiu;  daiii^hur  ot"  a  nciL^hlior, 
and  ht;  now  askeil  his  parents'  consent  to  iii.i  niarriagc,  and  also  n-i  jlle^ted  iheiii 


•  tiillNNY    IMI.I  ,"    OR  NO.  I. 
(The  first  I.oiumutiif  Lied.) 


to  allow  hini  to  retain  his  own  earninp^s,  in  order  that  he  miij^ht  be  able  to  sup- 
port a  wife.  Both  of  his  petitions  received  the  approval  of  his  parents,  and  in 
the  winter  of  1S13  he  was  married.  His  wife  was  a  woman  of  unusual  personal 
beauty  and  strength  of  cliaracter,  and  [)roved  the   best  of  partners.     He  often 


494  C(  V<XliI.  I  US  VA  Xni'KlUl.  T. 

declared  that  he  owed  his  success  in  life  as  much  to  h(.'r  counsel  and  assistance 
as  to  his  own  ellorts. 

In  1.S15,  in  connection  with  his  hrotlv.-r-in-law,  Captain  De  I'orrest,  he  luiilt 
a  tine  schooner,  called  the  "  Charlotli.-,  tor  the  coastinL,^  service.  She  was  cele- 
brated lor  the  beauty  ot"  her  model  and  her  L^reat  s|)t:ed.  He  continutHl  to  ply 
his  boat  in  the  harbor  duriuL;  the  sununer,  but  in  the  f.dl  aiul  winter  niaile 
voya_Ljes  aloni^  the  coast,  often  as  tar  south  as  Charleston.  Huriiv^-  the  three 
years  succeetlin^-  lh(;  ttirinination  of  the  war  he  saved  nine  thousand  dollars  in 
cash,  and  built  two  or  liirec;  small  \essels.     This  was  his  comlilion  in  iSiS. 

By  this  tinie  it  hatl  Ijeconie  demonstrated  to  his  satisfaction  that  the  n(nv 
system  of  steamboats  was  a  success,  and  was  destined  to  come  into  general  use 
at  no  very  distant  day.  I  le  therefore  determined  to  identify  himself  with  it  at 
once,  and  thereby  secure  the  benetits  which  he  felt  sure  woulil  result  from  a 
prompt  connection  with  it.  Accordin,L,dy,  in  iSiS.  to  the  surprise  and  dismay 
of  his  friends,  he;  s^^ave  up  his  llourishiui,'-  business,  in  onler  to  accei^t  the  cap- 
taincy of  a  steamboat  which  was  ottered  him  by  Mr.  Thomas  CJibbons.  The 
salary  attached  to  this  position  was  one  thousand  dollars,  and  Captain  \'ander- 
bilt's  friends  frankly  told  him  that  he  was  very  foolish  in  abandonini^  a  lucrative 
business  for  so  insijj;nitlcant  a  sum.  Turninj.,^  a  deaf  car  to  their  remonstrances, 
however,  he  entered  promptly  upon  the  duties  of  his  new  carc^er,  andwasL,nven 
command  of  a  steamboat  plyiuLj  between  New  York  and  New  Brunswick. 

For  seven  years  he  was  harassed  and  hampered  by  the  hostility  of  the  .State 
of  Xew  York,  which  had  granted  to  l^'ulton  and  Livingston  the  sole  right  to 
navigate  Xew  York  waters  by  steam.  Thomas  Gibbons  believed  this  law  to  be 
unconstitutional,  and  ran  his  boats  in  tletiance  of  it.  The  authorities  of  the 
State  resented  his  disregard  of  their  m(Mioi)oly,  and  a  long  and  ve.xatious  war- 
fare sprang  up  between  them,  which  was  ended  only  in  1S24  by  the  famous 
decision  of  the  .Supreme  Court  of  the  United  .States  in  the  "Steamboat  Case," 
as  it  is  usually  called,  in  which  Daniel  Webster  made  the  argument  for  Mr. 
Gibbons. 

As  a  means  of  crippling  Gibbons,  the  New  York  authorities  at  one  time 
determined  to  arrest  Vanderbilt  and  his  crew  ;  but  the  wary  captain  was  too 
cunning  for  them.  He  would  land  his  crew  in  Jersey  City,  and  take  charge  of 
the  engine  himself,  while  a  lady  managed  the  helm.  In  this  way  he  approached 
the  wharf  at  New  York,  landed  his  passengers,  and  took  on  more.  As  soon  as 
he  had  made  his  boat  fast,  he  concealed  himself  in  the  hold  until  the  moment  of 
his  departure.  As  soon  as  he  appeared  on  deck,  the  .Sheriff's  ofificer  (who  was 
changed  every  day  to  avoid  recognition)  would  approach  him  with  a  warrant  for 
his  arrest.  His  reply  was  an  order  to  let  go  the  line.  The  ofificer,  unwilling  to 
be  carried  ofT  to  New  Jersey,  where  he  was  threatened  with  imprisonment  in  the 
penitentiary  for  interfering  with  the  steamer,  would  at  once  jump  ashore,  or  beg 


SUTTLXG  IT  I  OR  HI.MSEU-. 


495 


to  be  landc'il.     This  was  kc-pl  up  tor  two  iiujiuhs.  but  tin;  captain  successfully 
baftlcci  his  enemies  durinj,'  thi;  whole  of  that  period. 

\w  1S29  he  determined  to  leave  the  service  of  Mr.  Clibbons,  with  whom  ht; 
had  been  connected  foi-  tlcxcn  years.  He  was  thirty-five  yctars  old,  ami  had 
saved  thirty  thousand  dollars,  lie  resolvi;d  to  build  a  sti-amer  of  his  own,  and 
command  her  himself,  and  accordinL,dy  made  known  his  intention  to  his  em 
ployer.  .Mr.  (iii)bons  at  once  declared  that  lu:  could  not  carry  on  the;  liiu;  with 
out  his  assistance,  and  told  him  lu;  mii.,dit  make  his  own  terms  if  he  would  stay 
with  him.  Captain  \'anilerbilt  hail  form(;il  his  decision  after  much  thouj,;ht,  and 
being  satisfied  that  he  was  doinL,^  '"i.U^l't  he  persisted  in   his  det(M'mination  to  set 


LOADlN<;    A     IRAIN    HI'     IXNK    CARS 


up  for  hims(;ir  Mr.  C.ibbons  then 
oft'ered  to  sell  him  the  line  on  the 
spot,  and  to  take  his  pay  as  the 
money  should  be  earned.  It  was  a 
splendid  offer,  but  it  was  firmly  and 
t^ratefully  refused.  The  captain  knew 
the  men  amonj^''  whom  he  would  be 
thrown,  and  that  they  could  never  act 
together  harmoniously.  He  believed  his  own  ideas  to  be  the  best,  and  wished 
to  be  free  to  carry  them  out. 

From  thut  time  he  made  his  way  gradually  in  his  business,  until  he  rose  to 
the  head  of  the  steamboat  interest  of  the  United  .States.  He  owned  or  was 
interested  in  one  hundred  steam  vessels,  and  was  instrumental  in  a  greater 
degree  than  any  other  man  in  bringing  down  the  rate  of  steamboat  fares.  He 
never  built  a  vessel  without  giving  his  personal  superintendence  to  every  detail, 
so  that  all  his  various  craft  were  models  of  their  kind. 

From  this  period  he  began  by  degrees  withdrawing  his  interest  from  ship- 
ping, to  some  extent,  and  investing  in  railroads  ;  ten  years  later  he  was  director 
in  several ;  and  when  the  war  broke  out  in  i860  his  investments  were  already 
29 


496  CORNELIUS  VANDERBILT. 

in  p^reat  measure  transferred  from  the  water  to  the  hand,  so  that  his  prosperity 
suffered  no  special  shock  by  the  practical  destruction  of  our  foreign  carrying 
trade. 

Having  gained  considerable  experience  in  the  manipulation  of  stocks,  he 
invested  largely,  more  especially  in  '  Harlem,"  "  Hudson  River,"  and  "  Cen- 
tral," then  separate  roads.  One  of  his  most  successful  operations  was  in  con- 
i.txtion  with  Harlem.  He  had  bought  heavily  of  this  stock  when  it  was  in  a 
most  depressed  condition,  advancing  to  the  company  a  large  sum  of  money, 
and  consecpiently  was  placed  upon  the  directors'  board,  and  in  1S63  became 
president  of  the  road.  Under  his  judicious  management,  and  perhaps  the  magic 
of  his  name,  the  stock  which  in  January  had  been  at  30,  rose  in  July  to  92,  and 
by  a  skillful  man(euvre  was  made  to  take  a  sudden  jump  in  August  up  to  179. 
The  next  year  occurred  the  famous  "  corner  in  Harlem,"  which  sent  this  stock 
up  to  the  astounding  figure  of  285  ! 

After  this  grand  '  bulling"  exploit  the  directors  of  the  Central  road,  covet- 
ing his  inlluenci!,  oflered  him  the  presidency.  He  bought  the  Hudson  River 
Railroad  outright,  and  had  then  in  New  York  State  but  one  rival  in  the  field 
worthy  of  his  metal ;  this  was  the  Erie  road,  then  identified  with  the  names 
of  the  famous  trio,  Daniel  Drew,  Jay  Gould,  and  James  Fisk.  \'anderbilt 
wished  to  procure  the  consolidation  of  the  "Harlem"  and  "Hudson  River," 
and  for  this  purpose  caused  a  bill  to  be  j)resented  to  the  legislature  at  Albany. 
Whether  it  was  under  the  suggestion  of  his  ever-watchful  antagonist,  Mr.  Drew, 
or  arose  from  the  speculating  minds  of  members,  or  of  the  lobby,  a  coalition 
was  formed  to  defeat  the  bill,  its  deserting  friends  evidently  believing  that  they 
could  make  more  in  that  v.'ay  than  by  passing  it.  Many  privately  "  gave  away 
the  point"  to  their  friends,  that  Harlem  stock  couUl  soon  be  bought  for  a  song. 
But  this  conspiracy  was  not  so  secretl}'  managed  but  that  it  reached  the  ears  of 
Harlem's  president.  He  made  no  protest  to  his  defaulting  friends  in  the  as- 
sembly, but  quietly  went  into  the  market  anil  bought  up  every  scrap  of  Harlem 
stock  to  be  found.  In  the  meanwhile  the  derelict  assemblymen  and  th(.'ir  friends 
had  been  selling  Harlem  "short"  for  future  delivery.  The  bill  for  the  consoli- 
dation was  defeated,  and  the  conspirators  looked  to  see  Harlem  fall.  To  their 
astonishment  it  stood  firm,  and  when  they  went  into  the  market  to  buy  the  stock 
for  delivery,  there  was  none  to  be  had  ;  they  were  consequently  obliged  to  pay 
on  "  call  "  the  value  of  the  stock,  which  they  had  sold  at  a  high  price.  Many  of 
the  speculators  were  ruined,  while  X'^anderbilt's  gains  began  to  roll  up  in  fabulous 
sums. 

From  this  time  onward  it  has  been  impossible  to  exactly  estimate  the  wealth 
of  the  railroad  emperor.  At  the  time  of  the  consolidation  of  the  Harlem  and 
Hudson  River  the  property  was  estimated  at  $35,000,000  :  he  very  soon  increased 
the  capital  to  $90,000,000,  and  on  this  enormous  sum  paid  annual  dividends  of 


HIS  GREAT  WEALTH. 


4>^/ 


eiq^ht  per  cent.  1  lis  will  did  not  disclose  the  amount  he  left,  but  it  was  prob- 
ably near  $100,000,000.  Some  of  his  uses  of  money  may  be  considered  as 
public  benefits,  and  in  these  are  included  his  imi)rovements  in  railroad  accom- 
modations. In  1S62,  during-  the  most  depressed  period  ot  the  I'nion  forces 
during  the  war,  he  made  the  magnificent  gift  of  his  splendid  steamer,  the  "  \'an 


derbilt,"  to  the  Government.  Its  cost  was 
United  .Stat(!s  was  greatly  in  need  of 
timely  and  valuable.  Congress  passed  a 
ordered  a  gold  medal,  commemorative  of 
and  presented  to  him 

It  was  one  of  the  pleasant  traits  of 
character  that  he  never  forgot  his  origin, 
nor  the  old  homestead  ;  in  fact,  though  he 
lived  for  many  years,  during  the  latter  part 


about  $Soo,ooo,  The 
vessels,  and  the;  gift  was 
resolution  of  thanks,  and 
the    event,    to    be    struck 

Commodore   \'an derbilt' s 


m^% 


>^ 


THF.   VANnF.RIill.r    FAMIT.Y    nRIVINT,    IN    rr.NTRAI.    I'ARK,    NI,\V    ViiKK. 


of  his  life,  in  New  York  city.  No.  10  Washington  Place,  his  first  grand  hoi  se 
tvas  in  Staten  Island,  and  built  upon  a  corner  of  his  father's  farm,  which  he  had 
bought  when  quite  a  young  man,  and  which,  before  he  built  upon  it,  was 
recognized  by  the  neighbors  as  "  Corneel's  lot."  Its  site,  when  liought,  was 
on  the  northeast  corner  of  the  farm,  and  very  near  the  water's  edge,  but  later 
improvements  in  filling  in  carried  out  the  shore-line  nearly  an  eighth  of  a  mile 


498 


CORNELIUS  VANDERBILT. 


beyond  the  house,  which  is  situated  upon  a  rise  of  land  overiooking  the  bay, 
the  approach  being  handsomely  terraced,  and  separated  from  the  road  by  a 
substantial  stone  coping  and  high  iron  fence. 

Mr.  Vanderbilt's  death  occurred  on  the  morning  of  the  4th  of  January, 
1877,  after  an  illness  of  six  months,  the  result  of  a  complication  of  diseases. 
The  (Treat  bulk  of  his  Lrii/Jxntic  fortune  descended  to  his  son  William  H. 

Commodore  Vantlerbilt  was  the  fiither  of  thirteen  children  by  his  first  wife 
— four  sons  and  nine  daughters.  His  second  wife,  whom  he  married  late  in  life, 
was  a  Miss  Crawford,  of  Mobile,  Ala.  To  this  lady  is  attributed  the  influence 
which  caused  the  endowment  of  the  "  Vanderbilt  University,"  located  at  Nash- 
ville, Tenn.,  and  the  gift  to  Dr.  Deems,  of  the  Church  of  the  Strangers,  with 
those  other  beneficent  acts  which  marked  the  last  vears  of  the  veteran  finan 
cier's  life. 


SUSI'UN'SIO.N    bRlUciE,    NIAGARA    I'ALLS. 


m-\  ^ 


mmi^-r: 


■^^*^' 


'rx^-' 


^ 


t^,l^J& 


^ti^v.  ^«C^, 


l^f*^ 


v**:.-.:- 


JlkL.i-ivj/fiy 


THK    RHYAI.   CDRCK,    Col.dRAIlO. 


OTJR    AMERICAN     RAILROADS. 


IN   view  of  the  important  part   performed 
by  railways  in  the  evohition  of  American 


prosperity  and  power,  th(;re  was  somc- 
thinu^  specially  sig'nificant  in  the  name 
of  the  first  American  locomotive  built 
for  the  first  railway  constructed  for  the 
carria_L,^e  of  passent^ers  and  freight  by 
steam  power  exclusively. 

the  West  Point  Works,  New  York  City^ 
in  the  summer  of  1S30,  for  the  pioneer 
steam  railway  between  Charleston  and 
Hamburg,  South  Carolina,  o[5ened  for  service;  in  the  fall  of 
that  year.  There  had  been  railroads  at  an  earlier  date,  but 
they  were  not  steam  roads.  Thci  historic  three-mile  (horse- 
power) railroad  of  the  Ouincy  Granite  Company,  built  in 
1827,  to  facilitate  the  transportation  of  stone  for  the  Bunker 
Hill  Monument,  is  a  notable  example.  The  Delaware  and  Hud- 
son Canal  Company's  gravity  coal  road  between  Carbondale  and 
Hawley,  Pa.,  was  another ;  and  a  later  one  was  the  tram-road  for  horses 
between  Baltimore  and  I^llicott's  Mills,  now  part  of  the  Baltimore  and  Ohio  Rail- 
road. And  there  had  been  numerous  experimental  locomotives,  by  several 
inventors,  following  the  lead  of  Oliver  Evans  at  the  beginning  of  the  century, 
and  coming  nearest  to  success,  perhaps,  in  Peter  Cooper's  little  "Tom  Thumb." 
This,  the  first  American  locomotive  to  run  on  rails,  was  a  toy  affair,  with  a  three 
and  a-half  inch  cylinder,  an  up'right  tubular  boiler  matle  with  old  gun-barrels,  and 
a  fan-blower  for  increasing  the  fire-draft.  It  was  about  as  big  as  a  ilour-ljarrel 
on  a  hand-car,  and  weig'ned  two  and  a-half  tons.  In  August,  1S30,  it  mad(;  the 
run  from  Baltimore  to  I-LUicott's,  twenty-seven  miles,  in  an  hour  ;  but  wh(;n  raced 
against  a  fast  team  on  the  return  trip  it  failed,  through  the  slijoping  of  thi;  belt 
which  moved  the  fan.     A  year  earlier  an  English  engine  had  been  imported  by 

501 


502  Oi'R  AMERICAN  RA/LROADS. 

the  Delaware  and  Hudson  Canal  Company,  for  hauling  coal  ;  and,  though  sue- 
ceessful  in  a  short  run,  it  proved  to  be  too  heavy  for  the  tracks  and  too  tall  to 
pass  under  highway  bridges,  and  was  never  used. 

The  "  Hest  Friend"  was  more  fortunate  at  first,  and  it  was  practically  the 
pioneer  American  locomotive,  and  the  .South  Carolina  road  was  our  pioneer 
steam  railway — the  first  to  carry  passengers  and  the  United  States  mail,  and, 
withal,  the  longest  railroad  in  the  world  when  completed.  It  was  not  con- 
temptible, either,  in  the  matter  of  speed.  On  trial  trips  (in  the  latter  part  of 
1830),  the  "  Best  Friend  "  was  able  to  run  at  the  rate  of  twenty  miles  an  hour, 
with  four  or  five  coaches  and  forty  to  fifty  passengers  ;  and  from  thirty  to 
thirty-five  miles  an  hour  without  cars.  Its  own  weight  was  five  tons.  On  the 
stockholders'  first  anniversary,  January  15,  1831,  an  excursion  party  of  two 
hundred  and  more  were  carried  over  the  road,  in  two  trips,  with  a  band  of 
music  and  a  detachment  of  United  States  soldiers  with  a  field  piece. 

This  was  only  four  mondis  after  the  formal  opening  of  the  Manchester  and 
Liverpool  road,  when  .Stephenson  demonstrated  for  England  the  superiority  of 
steam  railways  for  passenger  travel. 

Stephenson's  locomotive,  "The  Rocket,"  had  two  features  of  the  modern 
locomotive  which  the  Inst  Friend  lacked — a  tubular  boiler  and  steam  draft ; 
and,  in  June,  1831,  the  West  Point  Works  sent  to  the  South  Carolina  road  a 
better  engine  of  the  "  Rocket"  type.  Soon  after  the  Best  Friend's  career  was 
ended  by  the  excessive  zeal  of  a  negro  fireman  who  sat  upon  the  safety  valve 
to  stop  the  escape  of  steam.     The  fireman's  career  was  ended  at  the  same  time. 

Closely  pressing  the  .South  Carolina  road  in  its  claim  for  priority  was  the 
Mohawk  and  Mudson  road,  from  Albany  to  .Schenectady,  N.  Y.,  now  part  of  the 
New  York  Central  road.  By  many  it  is  regarded  as  furnishing  the  first  fully 
equipped  passenger  train  drawn  by  a  steam-engine  to  run  in  regular  service  in 
America.  Trial  trips  were  made  in  August,  1831,  regular  service  beginning  in 
October.  The  engine  was  the  "  De  Witt  Clinton."  the  third  locomotive  built  at 
the  West  Point  Works.  It  weighed  three  and  a  half  tons,  and,  hauling  half  a 
dozen  coaches,  was  able  to  run  from  Albany  to  Schenectady,  seventeen  miles,  in 
less  than  an  hour.  An  excursion  trip  made  August  9,  1831,  described  by  one  of 
the  party,  gives  a  good  idea  of  primitive  railway  travel.  "The  train  was  made 
up  of  the  De  JVitt  Clinton,  its  tender,  and  five  or  six  coaches — old  stage  bodies 
placed  on  trucks,  coupled  together  by  chain  links,  leaving  from  two  to  three 
feet  slack.  When  the  locomotive  started  it  took  up  the  slack  by  jerks,  with 
sufficient  force  to  jerk  the  passsengers,  who  sat  on  seats  across  the  tops,  out 
from  under  their  hats,  and  in  stopping  the  cars  came  together  with  such  force 
as  to  send  the  excursionists  flying  from  their  seats. 

"  Pitch  pine  was  used  for  fuel,  and  there  being  no  spark-catcher  to  the 
smoke-stack,  a  volume  of  black  smoke,  strongly  charged  with  sparks,  coal,  and 


CRUDE  EQUIPMENT. 


Sv^o 


cinders,  came  pouring  back  the  wliole  lengtli  of  the  train.  Each  of  the  outside 
passengers  who  had  an  umbrella,  raised  it  as  a  protection  against  the  smoke 
and  fire.  The  umbrellas  were  found  to  be  but  a  momentary  protection,  and  in 
the  first  mile  the  last  one  went  overboard,  all  having  their  covers  burned  off 
from  the  frames. 

At  the  first  station  a  plan  was  hit  upon  to  stop  the  jerking.     A  piece  of 
fence  rail  was  placed  between  each  pair  of  cars,  stretching  the  link-coupling, 
and  fastened  by  means  of  packing  yarn  from  the  cylinders,  an  improvement  not 
fully  worked  out  practically  for  many  years. 

A  more  formal  exhibition  of  the  possibilities  of  the  road  was  made  a  month 


NEW   TERMIiNAL  STATION   AND   MARKET   HOUSE  01'    KEAUINU   RAILROAD. 


later,  when  a  large  number  of  State  and  city  ofificials  took  part.  A  "  powerful 
Stephenson  locomotive"  had  been  imported  for  the  occasion,  but  it  did  not 
work  well,  and  the  DeWitt  Clinton  was  brought  into  service  to  haul  a  train  of 
three  coaches,  while  seven  other  coaches  followed,  drawn  by  horses.  The 
steam  train  made  the  trip  in  forty-six  minutes  ;  the  horse-drawn  train  in  an  hour 
and  a  quarter.  Among  the  toasts  offered  at  the  subsequent  dinner  was  this : 
"The  Buffalo  Railroad — may  we  soon  breakfast  in  Utica,  dine  in  Rochester, 
and  sup  with  our  friends  on  Lake  Erie." 

Now  we  breakfast  in  New  York,  dine  on  the  road  while  speeding  through 
Central  New  York,  and  sup  as  the  train  flies  past. 

Crude  as  were  these  early  beginnings,  they  sarriced  to  convince  a  v/ide- 


5U4  OrR  AMHR/CAX  RAILROADS. 

awake  and  cntcrprisinc;  people  that  the  steam  railroad  was  to  be  the  future 
highway,  and  railway  projects  were  started  in  all  parts  of  the  country,  a  num- 
ber of  them  to  be  carried  out  speedily.  There  were  nearly  a  hundred  miles  of 
railways  in  operation  at  the  i.\x\d  of  1S31,  and  the  first  thousand  miles  were 
passed  in  1S35.  In  the  meantime  improvements  were  introduced  in  the  con- 
struction of  tracks,  locomotives,  and  cars,  and  the  characteristics  which  have 
since  distintj^uished  American  railroads,  rolling  stock,  and  methods  of  operation, 
began  to  be  developed. 

In  Europe  the  railways  were  primarily  to  meet  existing  needs,  social, 
commercial,  and  military.  They  conntxted  strategic  points,  or  established 
centres  of  population,  and  sought  mainly  to  supply  the  demonstrated  wants  of 
ancient  trade  routes.  In  America  the  longer  roads  were  planned  chiefly  to 
meet  future  needs.  They  were  pioneers  in  national  development.  They  pene- 
trated the  wilderness  to  hasten  its  con([uest,  to  make  accessible  natural 
resources  not  otherwise  attainable.  They  created  trade  routes.  Population 
followed  the  lines  they  laid  down,  and  their  points  of  intersection  became 
centres  of  production  anil  traffic.  Built  largely  in  advance  of  trade  and  travel, 
by  a  people  too  young  to  have  accumulated  an  excess  of  capital,  in  their  con- 
struction and  e(}uipment  the  early  American  roads  showed  less  of  solidity  and 
elegance  than  of  originality,  one  might  almost  say  audacity,  in  design  and 
execution.  Curves  of  startling  abruptness  were  common,  and  timber  viaducts 
of  spider-web  lightness  led  over  chasms  that  European  engineers  would  have 
crossed  only  at  a  cost  which  would  have  thrown  a  new  enterprise  into  bank- 
ruptcy, as  indeed  the  cheapest  construction  too  often  did. 

The  unsubstantial  nature  of  the  roadway,  with  wooden  viaducts  and  bridges, 
compelled  the  use  of  rolling  stock  of  home  production.  Almost  invariably  the 
imported  engines  proved  too  heavy  and  rigid  for  American  service.  They  were 
built  for  level  grades  and  wide  curves,  the  axles  being  held  rigidly  parallel  by 
the  engine  frames.  The  second  engine  of  the  South  Carolina  road  had  its  run- 
ning-gear of  eight  wheels  arranged  in  two  trucks,  turning  on  king  bolts,  so 
as  to  easily  follow  sharp  curves.  This  was  improved  upon  in  the  first  Mohawk 
and  Hudson  engine,  in  which  the  driving  wheels  were  separated  from  the 
swiveled  "bearing"  truck,  apian  which  still  better  enabled  the  engine  to  follow 
readily  sharp  curves  and  adapt  itself  to  sudden  inequalities  of  the  track.  In 
1836  two  pairs  of  driving-wheels  coupled  together  were  adopted  in  connection 
with  a  swiveling  bearing-truck  ;  and  thereafter  what  has  since  been  known  the 
world  over  as  the  American  type  of  locomotive  became  the  rule  here,  to  be 
accepted  ultimately  by  other  countries, — latterly  even  by  the  sfjbbornly  conser- 
vative English  locomotive  builders. 

Closely  following  the  Mohawk  and  Hudson  road,  in  the  same  year,  came 
the  thirteen-mile  railway  between  Richmond  and  Chesterfield,  Va.,  and  a  fiv© 


RAPID  RAILROAD  liXTEXSIOW 


503 


mile  road  from  Now  Orleans  to  Lake  Pontchartrain.  The  next  year  Ponnsyl- 
vania  had  a  Statt^huiit  railroad,  iisiiiL;-  horses  at  first,  from  Philadelphia  to 
Columbia,  eii^dity-two  inili^s,  and  th(!  l'orta.i;e  road,  tor  canal  boats,  over  the 
mountains  from  llollidaysburi^di  to  Johnstown,  usint,''  stationary  en<^ines.  These 
roads,  with  their  canal  connections,  i^^ivt;  I'iiiladc'lphia  a  route  throuL,da  to  the 
West,  reducinL,''  the  freiL,dit  charge  to  l'ittsl)urL;ii  from  Sioo  to  ^;iO  per  ton 
New  \'ork  and  Philadelphia  wen;  connecLed  by  dii:  Camden  ami  Amboy  Kail 
road,  finished  in  1834.      Boston  and  Worcester  were  iron-linked  in   1835. 


ON    TIIK    IIALTIMORK    AND   OlIUI    RAILWAY. 


Somcthin*^  of  a  railway  mania  ensuetl,  culminatiiiLj  in  1842,  in  which  year 
over  seven  hundred  miles  of  new  roads  were  built,  brin^inL^  the  aij^reij^'ate  mile- 
age up  to  four  thousand.  P)y  this  time  Boston  and  Albany  hail  been  connected/ 
by  railway,  and  wheat  threshed  and  milled  in  Rochester  on  Monday  had  been 
delivered  in  Boston,  converted  into  bread,  and  solemnly  eaten  at  a  public  dinner 
on  Wednesday.  bVom  New  York  one  could  go  by  rail  all  the  way  to  Wash- 
ington ;  and  from  Fredericksburg,  Va.,  to  Wilmington,  N.  C.  In  1850  there 
was  no  direct  rail  connection  lietween  New  York  and  Boston,  nor  between  New 
York  and  Albany.     The  Hudson  River  Road  was  opened  in  the  Fall  of  1851. 


5o6  OUR  AMHRICAN  RAILROADS. 

\\y  thc!  consolidation  of  a  dozen  previously  independent  roads,  the  New  York 
Central  was  cri;ated  in  1S5;,.  With  thi;  c()mi)U;tion  of  thc  1  Itidson  River  road, 
the  westward  traveler  could  i,ro  by  rail  to  Hutialo  ;  thence  by  boat  throu_t,di  Lake 
Erie  to  Detroit ;  across  the  State  of  Michit^Mn  by  rail  ;  thence  across  Lake 
Michitfan  by  boat  to  Chicago,  then  almost  as  far  from  New  York  as  San  IVan- 
cisco  now  is.  Chicat^o's  only  railway  connection  was  with  LlL,nn,  forty  miles 
west.  The  Michitjan  Central  reached  Chicajj^o,  .i,Mvin>,r  it  direct  I'lastern  connec- 
tion, in  1852.  Meantimi,'  Western  Ohio  had  reached  Chica^oward  from  Toledo, 
passing  through  Northern  Indiana.  Two  or  three  years  later  Chica,Li;o  had  be- 
come a  great  railway  centre,  with  lines  to  Pittsburgh,  Cincinnati,  and  St.  Louis, 
and  had  entered  upon  an  era  of  civic  development  previously  unknown  even  in 
America.  LJuring  that  decade — 1830  to  i860 — the  development  of  the  region 
between  the  Great  Lakes  and  thc  Ohio  River  was  something  marve-lous,  and 
the  rapid  extension  of  its  railways  must  be  considered  as  much  a  cause  as 
an  effect. 

Coincident  with  the  extension  of  railway  facilities  were  improvements  in 
mcthotls  and  appliances.  The  original  coaches  could  carry  from  four  to  six 
passengers  inside  and  two  at  each  end  outside.  The  next  step  was  to  low  and 
narrow  cars,  with  four  or  five  coach-like  compartments,  into  which  perhaps 
twenty  passengers  could  be  crowded,  in  groups  of  four.  Then  the  partitions 
were  omitted,  making  a  long  box-car  with  doors  at  the  ends.  These  cars  were 
dimly  lighted  by  tallow  candles  or  whale-oil  lamps,  which  smoked  thc  tops  of 
the  cars  and  spattered  the  sides  with  grease.  The  more  luxurious  of  the  stiff, 
uncomfortable  seats  were  cover(;d  with  hair  cloth,  bi  winter  some  of  thc  cars 
were  heated  by  small  sheet-iron  stoves.  There  was  no  ventilation  except  by 
open  windows,  into  which  poured  clouds  of  dust  from  the  unballasted  roadbed, 
and  denser  clouds  of  smoke  and  cinders  from  the  locomotive,  burning  fat  pine 
for  fuel  and  belching  forth  a  torrent  of  sparks  that  usually  enveloped  the  entire 
train.     The  cars  were  without  springs. 

The  first  rails  were  merely  straps  of  iron  nailed  to  longitudinal  sleepers  of 
wood.  The  continuous  hammering  of  the  wheels  on  one  side  of  these  bars 
caused  them  to  curl  ;  the  loosened  ends  would  sometimes  be  struck  by  the 
wheels  and  thrust  upward  through  the  car, — causing  "snake  heads,"  which 
never  failed  to  frighten,  and  not  unfrequently  to  kill,  passengers  ind  derail 
the  train.  The  modern  rail,  invented  by  Colonel  Stevens,  of  No'W  Jersey, 
removed  this  source  of  danger  and  commended  itself  to  railway  builders  the 
world  over.     The  strap  rail  was  not  entirely  displaced,  however,  for  many  years. 

The  early  railroad  stations  were  mere  sheds  with  few  conveniences  for  pas- 
sengers or  baggage.  There  was  no  baggage  checking,  and  every  passenger 
had  to  keep  track  of  his  own  luggage  ;  a  serious  bother  and  constant  anxiety, 
as  "  through "  cars  were   unknown  and  frequent  changes  of  cars  were  made 


MODEK.y  FA  CI  1. 1 TII-S. 


'.oj 


necessary  by  the  short  Iciii^th  antl  indcpcnclcnt  nianaji^rnicnt  of  i  onncctinj^  roads 
At  every  terminus  the  passentjer  had  to  get  out,  buy  a  new  ticket,  and  sec  tliai 
his  baggage  was  properly  transferred.  At  night  and  in  foul  weather  this  was 
no  pleasure.  Coupon  tickets,  continuous  trains,  sleeping  cars,  baggage  check- 
ing over  con- 
necting routes, 
and  other  con- 
veniences came 
in  with  the  later 
fifties.  By  this 
time  the  elec- 
tric telegraph 
had  become  an 
important  fac- 
tor in  railroad 
management, 
a  f  a  c  t  o  r  of 
safety  as  well 
as  conveni- 
ence ;  and  that 
other  American 
idea,  the  ex- 
press service, 
had  demonstra- 
ted its  advan- 
tages to  travel- 
ers as  well  as  to 
shippers  of 
troods. 

In  1850  the 
railways  of  the 
country  were 
almost  entirely 
confined  to  the 
Atlantic  slope 
north  of  Vir- 
ginia.      Ten 

years  later  the  Southern  States  were  crossed  in  various  directions  from  Rich- 
mond to  Savannah  and  Memphis,  from  New  Orleans  to  the  mouth  of  the  Ohio ; 
and  a  network  of  iron  roads  furnished  transportation  to  the  coast  for  the 
cotton  of  the  Carolinas,  Georgia,  and  Alabama.     Still  greater  progress  had 


5o8  ("> 1 7v  .  IM/iR/CAX  RA//,A'( \1DS. 

bcfii  made  north  of  the  ( )hio.  The  jL,rrcat  Central  States  were  crossed  and 
recrossed  many  tinn-s,  and  their  ft'rtili;  plains  werr  tapped  by  the  four  or 
five  threat  chains  of  connectinL,^  lines,  furnishin;^'  throiiL,di  routes  from  New  York 
to  beyond  the  Mississippi  River,  and  down  the  Mississippi  to  New  Orleans; 
and  ChicaiL^o  had  become  a  threat  railway  centre. 

Durini;  the  years  of  civil  war  railroaii  huildint;  was  larj^rely  suspended,  to 
begin  attain  with  increased  vii^^or  with  the  return  of  peace.  The  irii^rantic  task 
of  l)uildin!Lj  an  iron  way  across  the  continent  had  been  accomplish(;d  before  the 
decadt;  was  ended,  and  the  ajj^i^aeoat*,-  milcai^fe  of  the  country  had  been  increased 
to  about  sixty  thousand.  'Ilu;  example  set  by  thtj  Nt:w  \'ork  Central,  and  the 
manifc;st  convenience  anil  economy  of  t^roupin^.^  related  roads  into  united  sys- 
tems under  common  mana,L''emeni,  had  led  to  the- formation  of  _s.,frc'at  corporations 
like  the  Pennsylvania  Railway  Company  and  the  Baltimore  and  ( )hio,  thus 
brinj^rinj.,''  a  confusion  of  indepi-ndent  roads  into  ortlerly  and  (economical  action, 
with  lower  taritl  ratces  for  frei^^ht  and  passeni^M-rs,  spet.-dier  servict-,  and  i^n'eater 
efficiency  in  every  ilepartnient.  The  i^reat  advanta,i^H;sf)f  the  rapitl  antl  uninter- 
rupted transmission  of  packajj^es  by  the  express  comjianies  led  to  the  extension 
of  such  service  to  !;.,f(;iUTal  freight  carrying',  and  fast  freij^ht  lines  in  charge  of 
special  companies  were  the  beneficent  result. 

While  thest;  improvtnneiits  in  railway  management  were  developing,  not 
less  important  iin[)rov(;ments  were  making  in  th(!  construction  and  eipiipment 
of  the  roads.  The  track  was  better  laid,  h(?avier  rails  employed,  with  larger 
cars,  and  more  powerful  engines.  The  Hodge  hand-brake,  and  the  .Stevens 
brake,  introduced  al)out  1S50,  materially  increased  the  economy  and  safety  of 
handling  trains.  The  Miller  coupler  and  buffer  was  a  more  radical  improve- 
m(;nt,  practically  (;nding  the  jerking  antl  jolting  in  starting  and  stopping  trains, 
and  lessening  the  risk  of  "  telescoi)ing  "  in  case  of  collisions. 

The  extension  of  railway  lines  and  the  increase  of  night  travel  gave  rise 
to  the  need  of  better  sleeping  accommotlations,  and  several  roads  experimented 
with  sleeping-cars  about  the  time  of  their  introduction  by  Woodruff  in  1856. 
Wagner  cars  were  placed  on  the  New  ^^)rk  Central  in  185S,  and  soon  after  the 
Chicago  and  Alton  Road  tried  a  number  of  day  cars  altered  to  sleepers  by 
Pullman.  Great  improvements  were  developed  by  Pullman  in  1865,  the  first 
car  of  the  new  type — costing  the  then  extravagant  sum  of  $iS,ooo — was  first 
used  in  the  funeral  train  of  President  Lincoln.  Parlor  or  drawing-room  cars 
were  next  introduced  for  day  service,  addir"-  greatlv  to  the  comfort  of  travel- 
ing.  The  first  hotel  car  was  introduced  by  the  Pullman  Company  in  1S57,  and 
the  first  dining-car,  in  which  all  the  passengers  of  a  train  could  take  their  meals 
as  in  a  well-equipped  restaurant,  f()llowed  in  1868. 

Each  decade  since  1870  has  seen  a  greater  extension  of  railway  lines  and 
more  numerous  improvements  in  railway  material  and  methods  than  in  all  the 


W/niiSPREAn  R.l/f.WAV  liXTl'.XSlON. 


509 


years  |>r(!C(Hlin,ij,  marvelous  as  tln-ir  result  had  horn,  hi  1S70  the  j^reat  rail- 
way States  were  Pennsylvania  and  Illinois,  with  nearly  five  thousand  miles  of  iron 
roads  each,  while  New  York,  Ohio,  and  Indiana  had  a  mileaj^e  of  over  three  thou- 
sand each.  In 
18S0  Illinois' 
mileatfe  ap- 
proached (Mi(ht 
thousand, Penn- 
sylvania's over 
six  thousand ; 
New  "\'  o  r  k , 
Ohio,  and  Iowa 
had  nearly  as 
many;  and  sev- 
en other  States 
exceeded  three 
thousand  miles 
each.  Of  these, 
Texas  had  in- 
creased her 
mileaL,fe  over 
fourfold.  Dur- 
inuf  that  year 
the  railway 
mileay^e  of  the 
whole  country 
reached  and 
passed  a  hun- 
dred thousand 
miles;  and  over 
seventy  thou- 
sand miles  of 
new  road  have 
since  been  add- 
ed. Illinois  re- 
mained in  1890 
tlie  greatest 
railroad    State, 

with  ten  thousand  miles  ;  Kansas  had  nine  thousand  ;  Iowa,  Pennsylvania,  and 
Texas  nearly  as  many.  After  these  come  Ohio  with  eij^dit  thousand  miles ; 
New  York  with  seven  thousand  seven  hundred  and  sixty  miles  ;  and  Michigan 


510  OUR  AMERICAN  RAILROADS. 

with  seven  thousand  three  hundred  and  forty-two  miles.  Thirteen  or  fourteen 
States  have  more  than  nvc  thousand  miles  each;  and  all  except  Rhode  Island, 
Delaware,  Vermont  and  Nevada  have  passed  the  first  thousand. 

During  the  last  two  decades  there  have  been  three  great  periods  of  railway 
extension,  culminating  in  1 871,  in  1SS2,  and  in  1S87,  the  advance  in  the  last  year 
named  being  nearly  thirteen  thousand  miles,  or  as  much  as  the  whole  country 
had  in  1852.  The  present  mileage  of  the  United  States — not  counting  town  and 
city  roads  operated  by  horses,  stationary  engines,  electric  motors,  and  small 
steam  engines,  like  those  of  our  elevatetl  roads — is  more  than  half  the  railway 
mileage  of  the  entire  world,  and  more  than  six  times  that  of  any  other  country. 

At  a  low  estimate  something  like  one-fifth  of  the  entire  wealth  of  the  United 
States  is  represented  by  these  newly  created  highways  of  traffic  and  travel,  or 
much  more  than  the  sum  of  the  whole  world's  stock  of  money,  of  every  kind — 
gold,  silver,  and  paper.  Their  motive  power  is  furnished  by  upward  of  30,000 
locomotives,  valued  at  half  a  billion  dollars,  whose  llying  trains  comprise  about 
twelve  hundred  thousand  cars,  worth  more  than  a  billion  and  a  half.  They 
would  make  a  train  extending  half  way  around  the  globe  !  Their  annual  traffic 
earnings  exceed  a  thousand  million  dollars.  They  give  direct  employment  to 
an  army  of  800,000  railway  men,  and  four  times  as  many  men  are  employed  in 
subsidiary  occupations,  in  building  and  ecpiipping  them,  the  railway  interests 
supporting  fully  a  twentieth  of  our  entire  population. 

To  haul  on  common  roads  the  freight  carried  by  American  railroads  would 
require  not  less  than  sixty  million  horses,  with  all  the  able-bodied  men  in  the 
country  to  drive  them,  and  the  annual  freight  bill  would  be  increased  twenty- 
fold  or  more  by  such  a  return  to  primitive  methods,  were  such  a  thing  possible. 
Facts  and  figures  like  these  serve  not  merely  to  indicate  the  magnitude  and 
importance  of  our  railway  service,  but  to  show  how  fundamentally  necessary  it 
is  to  a  civilization  like  ours.  Without  such  means  of  cheap  and  rapid  move- 
ment of  men  and  materials  the  greater  part  of  our  populous  and  wealth-pro- 
ducing territory  would  have  remained  a  savage  wilderness. 

Before  the  days  of  railways  it  cost  a  hundred  dollars  to  haul  a  ton  of  freight 
from  Philadelphia  to  Pittsburgh  ;  on  die  easier  grades  through  Central  New 
York  to  Buffalo  the  charge  was  twenty-five  cents  a  mile.  Only  costly  commod- 
ities could  stand  such  expensive  carriage.  The  value  of  a  load  of  wheat  would 
have  been  absorbed  in  half  the  distance  ;  indeed,  a  distance  of  a  hundred  miles 
is  generally  regarded  as  the  limit  of  grain  transport  on  common  roads.  By 
railway  it  can  stand  a  carriage  of  two  or  three  thousand  miles,  the  average 
freight  charge  on  all  the  railroads  of  the  country  being  about  a  cent  a  mile  ;  on 
many  roads  it  as  low  as  three-fourths  of  a  cent.  It  was  over  three  cents  a  mile 
in  1853  and  over  two  cents  in  i860.  Since  1870  the  average  cost  of  bringing 
a  bushel  of  wheat  from  Chicago  to  New  York  has  fallen  from  about  thirty-five 


THE  NEW  YORK  CENTRAL  SYSTEM. 


S" 


cents  to  less  than  fifteen   cents,   with  correspondinc^  benefit  to    Eastern    and 
Liuropean  consumers. 

To  attempt  to  trace  the  causes  of  this  cheapeninq;  of  transportation  for 
freight  and  passensj^ers  would  carry  us  far  beyond  the  Hmits  of  space  prescribed. 
Some  of  the  chief  contributing'  factors,  however,  may  be  briefly  noticed — compe- 
tition, due  to  the  multiplication  of  roads  ;  more  economical  management,  through 
the  development  of  great  systems  under  united  and  judicious  control ;  and,  above 
all,  improvement  in  the  tracks,  engines,  cars,  stations,  and  all  related  means, 
methods,  and  appliances.  As  an 
example,  when  the  New  York 
Central  System  comprised  the 
consolidation  of  the  Hudson 
River  and  Harlem  Roads,  in 
1864,   it    included   28 1    miles   of 


MOSSBRili;. 


j.uKvay,  with  double  tracks,  sidings,  and  spurs,  making  a  total  mileage  of  463. 
In  1 89 1  the  system  included  sixteen  roads,  with  over  5000  miles  of  track, 
its  valuation  had  increased  sixfold,  its  operating  expenses  fivefold,  and  its 
gross  earnings  more  than  fivefold.  In  1866  it  used  125  locomotives,  251 
passenger  cars,  and  1421  freight  cars  of  all  sorts  and  sizes.  The  average 
freight  car  was  then  twenty-eight  feet  long  and  carried  ten  tons ;  the 
average  passenger  car  was  forty  feet  long  and  would  seat  forty  passengers. 
Now  the  average  freight  car  is  thirty-four  feet  long,  with  a  cap:;  city  of  twenty- 
30 


512 


OUR  AMERICAN  RAILROADS. 


two  tons  ;  the  passenger  coach  is  fifty-four  feet  long  and  carries  sixty-four,  with 
a  comfort  undreamed  of  at  the  earlier  day.  The  fast  express  of  1866  attained  a 
speed  of  thirty-four  miles  an  hour.  The  Empire  State  Express  of  1892  regularly 
maintains  a  speed  of  fifty-one  miles  from  the  sea  to  the  lakes  ;  sometimes  it 
exceeds  a  mile  a  minute.  In  1866  the  average  passenger  train,  including  the 
engine,  weighed  one  hundred  and  thirty  tons  ;  the  average  freight  train  perhaps 
twice  as  much.  In  1891  some  of  the  freight  engines  alone  weighed  one  hundred 
tons,  and  a  freight  train  of  thirty-five  cars,  over  five  hundred  tons.  A  limited 
passenger  train  would  weigh  nearly  four-fifths  as  much.  In  1891  the  system, 
using  over  eleven  hundred  locomotives  and  forty  times  as  many  cars,  carried 
over  twenty  million  passengers  more  than  six  hundred  million  miles,  at  a 
cost  to  passengers  of  less  than  two  cents  a  mile,  and  twenty  million  tons  of 

freight  over  three  thousand  million  miles.  The 
chairman  of  the  Board  of  Directors  of  the  New 
York  Central  and  Hudson  River  Railroad  Com- 
pany is  Mr.  Cornelius  Vanderbilt,  who  devotes 
his  time  to  furthering  the  interests  of  this  great 
company.  Mr.  Chauncey  M.  Depew  is  the  active 
president  of  the  road,  with  Mr.  Theodore  Voor- 
hies  as  superintendent,  maintaining  a  vigilant 
oversight  of  its  business,  and  Mr.  George  H. 
Daniels  i."  the  efficient  General  Passenger  Agent. 
The  task  of  operating  this  vast  enterprise,  with  its 
five  hundred  and  eighty-six  trains  daily,  devolves 
upon  Mr.  John  M.  Toucey,  as  General  Manager, 
whose  record  may  well  serve  as  a  stimulus  to 
others — for  Mr.  Toucey  rose  from  the  ranks. 

John  M.  Toucey,  General  Manager  of   the 
*""""  New  York  Central  &  Hudson  River  R.  R.,  was 

born  at  Newtown,  Conn.,  July  30th,  182S.  After  preparing  for  Trinity  College, 
Mr.  Toucey,  finding  that  his  tastes  did  not  lead  him  in  the  direction  of  the  minis- 
try, turned  his  attention  to  school  teaching,  continuing  in  that  profession  for  two 
years.  At  the  age  of  nineteen  he  applied  for  and  obtained  a  position  on  the 
Naugatuck  R.  R.,  then  in  course  of  construction,  and  was  appointed  station 
agent  at  Plymouth  (nowThomaston),  beginning  business  there  before  the  station 
was  erected. 

About  a  year  after  his  appointment  the  station  was  robbed,  and  no  clue 
obtained  imtil  about  fifteen  hours  had  elapsed.  Mr.  Toucey  followed  the  thief 
to  Goshen,  near  Litchfield,  where  he  grappled  with  him  alone,  secured  the 
money,  and  turned  the  man  over  to  the  authorities  to  serve  a  seven  years' 
sentence  in  the  State  Prison.  While  running  as  conductor  between  Bridgeport 
and  Winstead  die  road  was  badly  damaged  by  freshets.     Mr.  Toucey  was  given 


JOHN    M.   TOUCEY. 
Gtneral  Manager  Nen>    V,n-k   Central  Railroad 


THE  PENNS  VL  VAN  I  A  S  YSTEM.  5 1 3 

charge  of  the  reconstruction  of  the  road  between  Waterbury  and  Winstead, 
completing  the  work  in  a  short  time  to  the  entire  satisfaction  of  the  Company. 
After  serving  at  Indianapolis  as  agent  of  the  Madison  &  Indianapolis  R.  R.,  and 
later  as  freight  agent  on  the  Morris  &  Essex  R.  R.,  Mr.  Toucey  entered  the 
service  of  the  Hudson  River  R.  R.,  and  in  1855  was  appointed  passenger  con- 
ductor between  New  York  and  Troy,  subsequently  filling  the  position  of  agent 
at  East  Albany.  In  1862  President  Samuel  Sloan,  of  the  Hudson  River  R.  R., 
appointed  Mr.  Toucey  Train  Master,  from  which  position  he  was  soon  promoted 
to  be  Assistant  Superintendent. 

In  1867  Mr.  Toucey  resigned  from  the  service  of  the  Hudson  River  Road 
and  accepted  the  position  of  General  Superintendent  of  the  D.  L.  &  W.  R.  R., 
under  Mr.  Sloan,  the  former  President  of  the  Hudson  River  Road,  but  after 
two  months'  service  he  was  recalled  to  the  Hudson  River  Railroad  by  Commo- 
dore Vanderbilt,  and  appointed  General  Superintendent,  with  full  charge  of  the 
line  then  extending  from  New  York  to  Albany.  Some  years  after  the  consoli- 
dation of  the  New  York  Central  Railroad  and  the  Hudson  River  Railroad  Mr. 
Toucey's  jurisdiction  was  extended  to  Buffalo,  and  in  b'ebruary,  1S90,  he  was 
appointed  General  Manager.  Mr.  Toucey's  long  experience  in  railway  man- 
agement and  his  habits  of  close  observation,  combined  with  untiring  energy  and 
native  sagacity,  have  brought  him  to  the  front  rank  among  railway  managers, 
and  he  is  deservedly  popular  with  the  army  of  men  employed  on  the  great 
"New  York  Central  System,"  where  his  ability  is  recognized  and  his  tall  form 
is  so  well  known. 

THE    PENNSYLVANIA    SYSTEM 

covers  between  seven  and  eight  thousand  miles  of  track,  with  a  freight  traffic  of 
one  hundred  and  thirty  million  tons  (over  twelve  thousand  million  tons  one  mile) 
and  a  passenger  traffic  of  eighty-seven  million  passengers  (over  sixteen  hun- 
dred thousand  one  mile),  and  carries  seventy-four  thousand  names  on  its  pay- 
rolls. The  Union  Pacific  system  covers  over  six  thousand  miles  of  connecting 
roads  ;  the  Southern  Pacific  nearly  as  many  ;  the  Richmond  Terminal  system 
something  like  seven  thousand  miles  ;  and  in  scope  of  territory  and  magnitutle 
of  business  these  are  rivaled,  if  not  surpassed,  by  several  sysU'ins  reaching 
westward  from  Chicago  into  regions  that  were  an  almost  unbroken  wilderness 
twenty-five  years  ago,  now  a  chain  of  mighty  States,  reaching  from  Mexico  to 
Manitoba,  and  from  the  Mississippi  to  the  Pacific,  The  unprecedented  progress 
in  the  social,  industrial,  and  political  development  of  that  wilderness  of  yester- 
day is  primarily  due  to  the  people  who  have  converted  it  to  the  uses  of  civiliza- 
tion ;  but  their  presence  there  was  made  possible  by  railways,  and  tht:  railway 
has  everywhere  been  their  great  engine  of  conquest  and  development — the 
bringer  of  population  and  carrier  of  the  wealth  they  discovered  or  created. 

To  trace  adequately  the  conflicts  of  systems  and  the  effects  of  competition 
in  decreasing  tariff  rates,  and  in  improving  the  means  and  methods  of  railway 


514  OUR  AMERICAN  RAILROADS. 

service  since  iSSo.  would  require  a  volume.  Much  less  is  it  possible  to 
describe  the  notable  feats  of  engineering  which  have  carried  railways  over 
rivers  and  chasms,  over  mountains  impassable  other  than  by  sure-footed  mules, 
across  deserts  too  hot  and  dry  even  for  mule  trains.  "No  heights  seem  too 
great  to-day,  no  valleys  too  deep,  no  canons  too  forbidding,  no  streams  too 
wide ;  if  commerce  demands  it  the  engineer  will  respond  and  the  railways  will 
be  built."  The  railway  bridges  of  the  country  would  make  a  continuous  struc- 
ture from  New  York  to  San  Francisco,  and  include  many  of  the  boldest  and 
most  original,  as  well  as  the  longest  and  highest  bridges  in  the  world.  The 
pioneer  railway  suspension  bridge  at  Niagara  Falls  was  as  remarkable  in  its  day 
for  boldness  and  originality  as  for  its  size  and  its  success.  A  single  span  of 
821  feet,  supported  by  four  cables,  carried  the  track  245  feet  above  the  river 
that  rushed  beneath.  The  cables  were  supported  by  masonry  towers,  whose 
slow  disintegration  gave  occasion  for  an  engineering  feat  even  more  notable 
than  the  original  construction  of  the  bridge.  The  first  railroad  bridge  across 
the  Ohio  was  at  Steubenville,  completed  in  1 866  ;  the  first  iron  bridge  over 
the  Upper  Mississippi  was  the  Burlington  bridge  of  1869.  The  first  great 
bridge  across  the  j\Iississippi  was  Eads'  magnificent  structure  at  St.  Louis,  whose 
beautiful  steel  arches  of  over  5CX)  feet  span  each  give  no  hint  of  the  difficult 
problems  that  had  to  be  solved  before  a  permanent  bridge  was  possible  at  that 
point.  It  was  completed  in  1874.  Since  then  the  great  river  has  been  fre- 
quently bridged  for  railways,  the  latest  at  Memphis,  while  its  great  arm,  the 
Missouri,  has  been  crossed  a  dozen  times.  The  Memphis  bridge  involves  the 
cantilever  construction,  so  boldly  applied  for  the  first  time  by  the  Cincinnati 
Southern  Road  to  its  crossing  of  the  deep  gorge  of  the  Kentucky  River,  a 
canon  1200  feet  wide  and  275  feet  deep,  with  a  stream  subject  to  rises  of  water 
of  55  feet. 

But  to  return  to  the  subject  of  railways  and  their  development :  the  latest  and 
most  promising  phase  of  this  development — the  electric  railroads — must  have  a 
paragraph.  Though  it  is  scarcely  a  dozen  years  since  the  first  experimental 
electric  locomotive  was  e.xhibited,  there  are  already  (June,  1892,)  upward  of 
five  thousand  miles  of  electric  roads  in  operation,  capitalized  at  nearly  two  hun- 
dred million  dollars,  Massachusetts  leads  in  mileage,  though  exceeded  by  New 
York,  Pennsylvania,  and  Ohio  in  number  of  roads.  Thirty-six  States  claim  one 
or  more  roads  each,  and  St.  Louis,  Mo.,  boasts  of  the  most  complete  and  exten- 
sive city  system.  Assurance  is  given  that  electric  locomotives  will  soon  dis- 
place steam  engines  from  the  Elevated  Roads  of  New  York  city.  The  largest 
electric  locomotives  thus  far  reported  are  the  three  eighty-ton  electric  engines  for 
the  tunnel  service  of  the  Baltimore  Belt  Railway.  They  are  designed  to  haul  a 
1 200-ton  freight  train  fifteen  miles  an  hour,  or  a  500-ton  passenger  train  thirty 
miles  an  hour.  Similar  heavy  and  powerful  electric  locomotives  have  been 
adopted  for  handling  trains  at  the  Northern  Pacific  Terminals  at  Chicago, 


?-4) 


CYRUS  W.  FIELD, 

THE    SUCCESSFUL    PROJECTOR    OF    THE    ATLANTIC 

CABLE 


OW  necessary  it  is  to  succeed  > "  sadly  remarked  Kossuth 
the  Hungarian  patriot,  as  he  stood  at  the  tomb  of  Wash 
ington.  Many  a  noble  and  brave  man  beside  Kossuth 
has  ilhistrated  the  truth  that  the  world  bestows  honor 
only  for  success  ;  but  few  have  so  nobly  displayed  the 
qualities  necessary  to  win  success  as  the  projector  of 
the  great  Atlantic  cable, 

Cyrus  West  Field  was  born  at  Stockbridge,  Massa 
chusetts,  November  ^o,  181Q.  He  was  the  son  of  Rev. 
\/^M\-^^';:ipj:'  David  Dudley  Field,  a  distinguished  clergyman.  He  wa.'- 
carefully  educated,  and  at  the  age  of  fifttn-n  went  to  New 
York  to  seek  his  fortune.  He  had  no  difficulty  in  obtaining  ? 
clerkship  in  an  enterprising  mercantile  house,  and,  from  the  first 
^ave  evidence  of  unusual  business  capacity.  His  employers  advanced  him 
rapidly,  and  in  a  few  years  he  became  a  partner.  His  success  was  so  marked 
that  in  1853,  when  only  thirty-four  years  old,  he  was  able  to  partially  retire  from 
business  with  a  large  fortune. 

Mr.  Field  had  devoted  himself  so  closely  to  his  business  that,  at  his  retire- 
ment, he  resolved  to  seek  recreation  and  change  of  scene  in  foreign  travel,  and 
accordingly  he  left  New  York,  and  passed  the  next  six  months  in  journeying 
through  the  mountains  of  South  America.  Upon  his  return  home,  at  the  close 
of  the  year  1853,  he  declared  his  intention  to  withdraw  entirely  from  active  par 
ticipation  in  business,  and  to  engage  in  no  new  schemes. 

Scarcely  had  Mr.  Meld  returned  when  he  was  solicited  by  his  brother  Mat 
thew  to  accord  an  interview  to  a  Mr.  Frederick  Gisborne,  of  Newfoundland 
who  had  conceived  a  plan  to  establish  telegraphic  communication  between  New 
York  and  St.  Johns,  Newfoundland,  and  from  the  latter  point  to  despatch 
swift  steamers  to  London  or  Liverpool,  which  were  expected  to  make  the  voy- 
age in  five  or  six  days.  Mr.  Field  listened  to  his  enthusiastic  visitor  with  close 
attention,  but  without  committing  himself  to  the  project.     But,  after  the  latter 

517 


5i8  CYRUS  IV.  FIELD. 

had  left,  he  took  out  his  maps  and  charts,  and  began  to  mentally  estimate  the 
cost  and  difficulties  of  the  plan,  when  suddenly  the  idea  came  to  him ;  "  Instead 
of  steamers,  why  not  run  an  electric  wire  through  the  ocean  itself?  "  This 
thought,  he  says,  thrilled  him  like  a  veritable  shock  of  electricity,  and  he  could 
hardly  contain  himself  until  he  htid  sought  the  opinion  of  persons  more  practi- 
cally acquainted  with  the  science  of  electricity,  and  with  the  conformation  of  the 
ocean-bed,  than  he  was  at  that  time.  Being  assured  by  the  best  authorities  (jf 
the  feasibility  of  the  plan,  he  became  thoroughly  interested  in  the  project,  and 
resolved  at  once  to  try  and  interest  a  sufficient  number  of  capitalists  to  enable 
the  company  to  make  a  practical  beginning. 

A  company  was  soon  found,  consisting  of  a  few  wealthy  men  of  New  York. 
Mr.  Peter  Cooper  was  president.  Mr.  Field  was  the  man  who  undertook  the 
immense  labor  of  pushing  the  enterprise.  He  visited  England,  where  he 
obtained  large  subscriptions  to  the  capital  stock  of  the  company.  He  secured 
the  cordial  aid  of  the  British  government,  both  in  money  and  in  the  use  of  ves- 
sels for  laying  the  cable.  He  attended  to  the  manufacture  of  the  cable  itself 
and  the  construction  of  the  machinery  for  "  paying-out "  from  the  vessels.  Then 
he  returned  to  America,  and  with  difficulty  secured  the  co-operation  of  the 
United  States  government.  The  bill  passed  Congress  by  very  small  majorities, 
and  was  signed  by  President  Buchanan  in  March,  1857. 

THE    FIRST    ATTEMPT. 

On  August  6th  the  '  Niagara"  and  "Agamemnon,"  with  the  precious  cable 
aboard,  started  from  V'alentia,  a  small  town  on  the  western  coast  of  Ireland. 
Mr,  Field  was  on  board  of  the  "  Niagara  ;"  Professor  Morse  and  other  electri- 
cians accompanied  Mr.  Field  to  watch  the  execution  of  the  enterprise.  As 
fixthom  after  Hithom  of  the  great  cable  passed  over  the  side  of  the  "  Niagara  " 
and  slipped  into  the  silent  sea,  every  one  on  board  began  to  feel  a  sort  of  human 
interest  in  the  cable  itself  as  if  it  were  a  thing  of  life.  An  eye-witness  on  the 
"Niagara"  has  eloquently  described  the  feeling  of  subdued  solemnity  which 
gradually  took  possession  of  the  whole  ship's  company.  Suddenly  a  great 
calamity  came.  By  the  too  sudden  application  of  a  brake  on  the  "  paying-out 
machine,"  the  cable  snapped,  parted,  and  wholly  disappeared  beneath  the  waves. 
The  shock  was  almost  too  great  for  the  firmest  nerves.  All  felt  as  if  a  cherished 
comrade  had  just  slipped  the  cable  of  life,  and  gone  to  his  grave  In  the  depths 
of  the  ocean. 

The  lateness  of  the  season  precluded  the  idea  of  repairing  the  accident,  so 
as  to  continue  the  work  that  year.  The  fleet  returned  to  England,  and  Mr. 
Field  immediately  gave  orders  for  the  construction  of  seven  hundred  additional 
miles  of  cable  to  replace  what  was  lost.  During  all  this  time  his  activity 
appeared  almost  to  exceed  the  bounds  of  human  endurance.     Many  were  the 


THE  FIRST  SUCCESS.  519 

successive  twenty-four  hours  in  which  he  had  no  sleep,  except  such  naps  as  he 
would  catch  in  a  railway  car.  But  faith  in  the  final  success  bore  him  up.  On 
the  10th  of  June  in  the  following  year  the  work  of  relaying  the  cable  com- 
menced; but  another  disappointment  was  in  store  for  him.  About  two  hundred 
miles  of  cable  had  been  laid,  when  it  broke  as  did  the  former  one,  and  once 
more  the  labor  of  months  was  swallowed  up  by  the  sea.  The  defect  this  time 
appeared  to  be  in  the  constrt  ction  of  the  cable  itself,  as  it  was  repaired  several 
times,  and  finally  abandoned. 

Of  course,  it  required  all  of  Mr.  Field's  eloquence  to  induce  the  directors  to 
make  another  essay;  he  himself  was  greatly  chagrined  at  the  failure  ;  but  he 
still  saw  that  the  difficulties  to  be  overcome  were  not  insurmountable,  and  that 
perseverance  would  fmally  win.  Again  the  fleet  left  Oueenstown,  on  July  17th, 
making  their  rendezvous  in  mid-ocean  on  the  28th  ;  the  next  day  the  cables  on 
the ''Agamemnon  "  and  the  "  Niagara  "  were  spliced,  and  the  steamers  once 
more  parted  company,  the  "Agamemnon  "  trailing  her  share  of  the  cable 
toward  Ireland,  the  "  Niagara "  hers  toward  Newfoundland,  b'ach  vessel 
reached  its  destination  on  the  5th  of  August.  Signals  were  passed  and  repassed 
over  the  whole  length,  and  the  enterjjrise  seemed  to  be  finally  rewarded  with 
success.  Messages  were  e.xchauLred  between  the  ()iieen  and  President  Hucha- 
nan  ;  a  public  reception  was  given  to  Mr.  Field,  and  the  event  was  celebrated 
in  New  York  and  other  cities.  For  nearly  four  weeks  the  cable  worked  perfectly  ; 
then  came  a  sudc'en  stop.  On  the  ist  of  September  the  cable  refused  to 
respond, 

The  general  disappointment  was  as  great  as  the  elation  had  been,  and  many 
thought  no  further  effort  would  ever  be  made.  At  a  meeting  of  the  Chamber 
of  Commerce  in  New  York,  a  gendeman  present  presumed  to  assert  his  belief 
that  the  cable  had  never  really  worked.  Mr.  Cunard,  of  the  {British  steamship 
line,  who  also  happened  to  be  there,  immediately  arose  and  vehemently 
denounced  the  statement  as  false,  adding,  "  I  have  myself  sent  messages  and 
received  replies."  Only  one  or  two  others  besides  Mr.  Field  retained  any  con 
fidence  that  the  difficulties  of  ocean  telegraphy  could  ever  be  overcome. 

But  Cyrus  \V.  Field  knew  no  such  word  as  "  fail."  Perceiving,  however, 
that  he  could  not  under  the  circumstances  hope  to  obtain  additional  private  sub- 
scriptions, he  appealed  once  more  to  the  British  government  to  come  to  the 
rescue  of  the  great  work  of  the  century.  This  was  liberally  e.Ktended  ;  but  in 
the  meantime  the  civil  war  in  the  United  States  interfered  with  further  progress 
there.  Little  was  done  until  1863,  when  the  manufiicture  of  a  new  cable  was 
begun.  It  was  completed  during  the  year  1864-5,  ^"•^  the  sum  of  ^600,000 
was  raised  for  the  company,  mainly  through  the  instrumentality  of  Mr.  I'ield. 
On  this  occasion  but  one  vessel  was  employed  to  bear  the  cable — but  that  was. 
the  "  Great  Eastern." 


520 


CYRUS  U:  FIELD. 


Oil  the  23tl  of  July,  1S65,  the  huul  conncctuMi  was  made,  and  the  L;rcat  ship 
commenced  her  momentous  voyairc.  Day  by  day  the  great  wheel  turned,  and 
fathom  after  fathom  of  the  new  cable,  heavier  and  more  carefully  insulated  than 
its  predecessors,  slipped  overboard  into  the  sea.  The  work  went  bravely  on  for 
1200  miles  ;  but  when  api^roaching  Newfoundland  the  old  misfortune  recurred  ; 
in  spite  of  all  the  care  and  watchfulness,  the  cable  broke  and  disappeared  under 
the  waves. 

Attempts  were  made  to  recover  the  cable  by  grappling  ;  but  though  it  was 


ARRIVAL    or    TIIK    CKKAT    KASTF.KN. 


several  times  caught  and  lifted  nearly  to  the  surface,  the  strain  was  too  great 
for  the  grapnels  ;  they  broke,  and  again  the  cable  sank.  It  was  evident  that 
more  efficient  appliances  would  be  required.  The  spot  was  carefully  marked 
by  buoys,  and  the  great  vessel  returned  to  England. 

The  strain  of  repeated  disappointment  was  terrible  ;  but  it  had  at  least  been 
demonstrated  that  a  cable  could  be  laid  and  a  message  sent  over  it.  Public 
confidence  in  the  ultimate  success  of  the  enterprise  was  greater.  Before  the 
ne.\t  year  Mr.  Field  succeeded  in  obtaining  large  new  subscriptions.  Another 
cabJ**  was  made  and  all  the  appliances  for  laying  it  perfected  ;  and  on  Friday, 


THE  FINAL  TRIUMPH.  52 j 

July  13th,  the  "  Great  liastcrn  "  aijain  sailed  from  Ireland,  with  the  cable  sinking 
into  the  ocean  as  she  moved  westward. 

I.ANDINC.    OF     Till",    CAIU.E. 

Public  interest  in  the  enti.-rijrise  Jnul  now  become  intense.  It  was  known  thai 
the  caljle  would  be  landed  at  Heart's  Content,  in  Newfoundlanil,  and  many  had 
gone  there  from  various  parts  of  the  country  to  witness  the  arrival  of  the  "  Great 
Eastern."  The  shore  was  fringed  with  \isitors,  opera-  or  spy-<rlass  in  hand, 
watchin«.j  the  eastern  horizon.  I'ourteen  days  pass  away  :  it  is  I'Viday  morninjj, 
the  27th  day  of  July,  1866.  1  lere  at  last  she  comes  I  As  she  draws  nearer  the 
people  see  that  her  colors  are  all  set,  which  at  least  indicat(;s  that  they  have  met 
with  no  disaster.  \\  ith  every  mile's  advance  of  the  steamer  the  excitement 
grows.  Too  impatient  to  wait  the  arrival,  secures  of  boats  put  off  to  row  toward 
her.  A  delay  of  nearly  two  hours  occurs  while  the  latter  connects  the  heavy 
shore  end  with  the  main  cable,  and  at  last  the  two  continents  are  united  ! 

Unfortunately  the  cable  across  the  Gulf  of  .St.  Lawrence  was  disabled,  and 
it  was  not  until  Sunday,  the  29th,  that  this  was  repaired,  and  the  heart-cheering 
intelligence  announced  to  the  nation.      This  was  the  message  : — 

"  Heart's  Content,  July  27th.  We  arrived  here  at  nine  o'clock  this  morn 
ing.  All  well.  Thank  God,  the  cable  is  laid,  and  is  in  perfect  working  order. 
Cyrus  W.  Field." 

Almost  immediately  the  "  Great  l-lastern  "  again  put  to  sea,  and,  proccted- 
ing  to  where  the  cable  of  1865  had  been  lost,  succt'eded  without  much  trouble 
in  grappling  it  and  bringing  it  to  the  surface.  It  was  tested  by  sending  a  mes- 
sage to  Valentia  ;  and  being  found  perfect,  was  spliced  to  an  additional  section, 
which  was  brought  to  Newfoundland,  ::nd  both  of  these  cables  ha\e  been  in 
constant  use  to  the  present  time. 

Many  persons  had  contributed  to  this  great  success,  but  to  Cyrus  W, 
Field  it  is  chiefly  due.  His  energy  and  perseverance  kept  the  subject  constantly 
before  the  public.  His  courage  inspired  others,  and  his  faith  in  its  ultimate  suc- 
cess alone  kept  its  best  friends  from  abandoning  it  in  its  darkest  hours.  In  its 
behalf  he  spent  twelve  years  of  constant  toil,  and  made  over  fifty  voyages,  more 
than  thirty  of  which  were  across  the  Atlantic.  He  devoted  his  entire  fortune  to 
the  undertaking,  and  cheerfully  incurred  the  risk  of  poverty  rather  than  abandon 
it.  It  is  but  just  that  he,  who  was  the  chief  instrument  in  obtaining  for  the 
world  this  great  benefit,  should  receive  the  largest  measure  of  praise. 

At  a  banquet  given  in  his  honor  by  the  New  York  Chamber  of  Commerce 
Mr.  Field  .said  : — 

"It  has  been  a  long,  hard  struggle — nearly  thirteen  years  of  anxious  watch 
ing  and  ceaseless  toil.  Often  my  heart  has  been  ready  to  sink.  Many  times 
when  wandering  in  the  forests  of  Newfoundland  in  the  pelting  rain,  of  on  thf 


532  CVRC/S  ]V.  FIELD. 

decks  of  ships  on  dark,  stormy  niirhts,  alone,  far  from  home.  I  have  ahnost  accused 
myself  of  madness  and  folly  to  sacrifice  th(--  peace  of  my  family  and  all  the  hopes 
(jf  life  for  what  mis^ht  prove,  after  all.  a  dream.  I  have  seen  my  companions,  one 
and  another,  fallin^^  by  my  side,  and  feared  that  I  miyht  not  live  to  see  the  end. 
And  yet  one  hope  has  led  me  on.  and  I  have  prayed  that  I  mit(ht  not  taste  of 
death  till  this  work  was  accomplished.  That  prayer  is  answered  ;  and  now, 
beyond  all  acknowledtrments  to  men.  is  the  feelinj,'  of  gratitude  to  Almighty 
God." 

In  1869,  ^^i"'  i'ii^l<J  was  present  at  the  opening  of  the  great  Suez  Canal,  as 


^  ^ -T'      "         '- •     -     *"    ~-    ,--  -,1"  ',1^ 


|;I.1.\A  I  I  li    RAILROAD    IN    NTW    YORK. 


representative  of  the  Chamber  of  Commerce  of  Xew  York.  In  18S0  he  made 
a  tour  around  the  world,  and  secured  from  the  government  of  the  Sandwich 
Islands  concessions  for  a  Pacific  cable,  to  be  laid  from  San  F"rancisco.  He  became 
deeply  interested  in  the  elevated  railway  system  of  Xew  York  city,  and  devoted 
much  time  and  money  to  its  development.  The  latter  part  of  his  life  was  spent 
in  New  York,  of  which  he  was  one  of  the  most  conspicuous  and  honored  citizens. 
Domestic  troubles  and  financial  losses  clouded  the  few  years  just  before  his 
death,  which  occurred  on  July  12th,  1892. 


^-^.-^~. 


LELAND   STANFORD, 

AND    THE    STORY     OF    CALIFORNIA. 

HE  opening  up  of  the  great  West  was  more  than  the  mert 
development  of  a  country ;  it  was  the  development  ol 
men,  the  evolution  of  a  new  race.  Not  only  did  the 
struggle  result  in  the  building  of  an  empire,  but  it  also 
brought  forth  the  abilities  of  the  men  who  made  that 
empire  great.  One  of  the  foremost  of  these  men  is  Leland 
Stanford.  In  him  were  developed  not  only  the  powers 
which  make  a  man  capable  of  great  deeds,  but  the  sympa- 
thies which  lead  him  to  desire  the  ecpial  development  of  all 
of  his  race.  He  will  be  remembered  not  merely  as  the 
builder  of  the  great  Pacific  Railroad,  not  merely  as  the 
successful  business  man,  but  as  the  man  whose  desire  for  the  advancement  of 
others  grew  out  of  the  experiences  of  his  own  struggle.  His  greatest  monu- 
ment is  the  Leland  Stanford,  Jr.,  University,  that  noble  institution  whose  object 
is  to  develoj)  men  and  women. 

California  was  a  foreign  country  to  the  people  of  the  United  States  when 
it  became  a  part  of  the  national  territory  at  the  close  of  the  Mexican  War.  Its 
immense  wealth,  its  glorious  climate,  its  unlimited  possibilities  of  development, 
were  all  unknown.  Peopled  by  an  effeminate  and  unprogressive  race,  it  lacked 
all  of  the  features  of  civilization  which  characterized  the  P^ast. 

Shortly  after  its  acquisition  by  the  '  Inited  States,  the  discovery  of  gold  in 
its  mountain  ranges  brought  the  country  into  sudden  prominence.  'Phe  dis- 
covery was  made  by  James  Wilson  Marshal,  in  January,  i  <S4S.  Marshal  had  been 
employed  to  construct  a  mill  on  the  estate  of  a  hundred  square  miles  which 
Gener.3.1  John  A.  Sutter  had  received  as  a  grant  from  the  Spanish  government 
Sutter's  d(Mnesne  had  been  the  center  of  the  American  colonies  in  California. 
General  Sutter  himself,  a  Swiss  liy  birth,  was  a  gtMierous-minded  visionary,  who 
had  shown  himself  so  hospitable  to  all  American  immigrants  that  he  had  attained 
to  a  certain  pre-eminence  in  the  affairs  of  the  Territory,  and  was  looked  upon  by 
many  as  a  great  and  heroic  figure. 

The  discovery  of  gold  took  place  on  the  afternoon  of  the  24th  of  January, 

525 


^25 


LELAND  STANFORD. 


184P.,  just  after  Sutter's  mill  had  been  completed,  and  Marshal  and  his  men  had 
for  two  weeks  made  a  perilous  f'i,i,dit  to  keej)  the  dam  from  beiny  destroyed  by 
the  heavy  rains  which  had  set  in.  In  this  contest  with  the  water  Marshal  had 
exhibited  a  couraq-e  which  made  him  half  deserve  the  accidental  fame  that  came 
through  the   finding  of   the  gold.     When   his  men   were   exhibiting  to  some 

amazed  Indians 
the  workings  of 
their  new  saw-mill, 
Marshal  was  in- 
specting the  lower 
end  of  the  mill- 
race.  He  came 
back  with  the 
quiet  remark, 
"  Boys,  I  believe  I 
have  found  a  gold 
mine."  He  moved 
otf  to  his  cabin, 
went  back  to  tlie 
race,  and  then 
again  returned  to 
his  men,  directing 
them  early  in  the 
morning  to  shut 
down  the  head- 
gate?  and  see  what 
would  come  of  it. 
The  next  morning 
the  men  did  as 
they  were  toUl, 
and  presently 
Marshal  came 
back  looking  won- 
derfully pleased, 
carrying  in  his 
arms  his  old  white 
nat,  in  the  to|>  of  whose  crown,  sure  enough,  lay  Hakes  and  grains  of  the 
precious  metal.  Comparing  these  pieces  with  a  gold  coin  one  of  the  men 
happened  to  have  in  his  pocket,  they  saw  that  the  coin  was  a  little  lighter  in 
color,  and  rightly  attributed  this  to  the  presence  of  the  allo\'.  Then  ail  the 
men  harried  down  th*"  race,  and  were  soon  engrossed  in  picking  gold  from  the 


FINDINC.  noi.n   IN  THF.  MII.I.-RACE. 


THE  GOLD  EXCITEMENT.  527 

seams  and  crevices  laid  bare  by  the  sluittin>^  down  of  the  head-o^ate.  In  the 
midst  of  their  excitement  doubts  would  sometimes  arise,  and  some  of  the 
metal  was  thrown  into  \  inegar  and  some  boiled  in  the  soap-kettle,  to  see  if  it 
stood  these  tests.  Then  Marshal  went  otf  to  (leneral  .Sutter,  and,  feverish 
with  excitement,  told  him  of  what  had  come  to  liglit.  When  he  returned  to 
the  men  he  said,  "  (^h,  boys,  it's  the  pure  stuff!  I  and  the  old  Cap  went 
into  a  room  and  locked  ourselves  up,  and  we  were  half  a  day  tr\ini4-  it,  and 
the  regulars  there  wondered  what  the  devil  was  up.  They  thought  perhaijs  I 
had  found  quicksilver,  as  the  woman  did  down  toward  Monterey.  Well,  we 
compared  it  with  the  encyclopedia,  and  it  agreetl  with  it ;  we  tried  acpia  fortis, 
but  it  would  have  nodiing  to  do  with  it.  Then  we  weighed  it  in  water  ;  we  took 
scales  with  silver  coins  in  one  side,  balanced  with  the  dust  in  the  other,  and  gently 
let  them  down  into  a  basin  of  water  ;  and  the  gold  went  down,  and  the  silver 
came  up.     That  told  the  story,  what  it  was." 

That  did  tell  the  story — and  though  .Sutter  tried  to  keep  the  story  a  secret 
until  all  the  work  in  connection  with  the  mills  had  been  finished,  the  story  would 
not  keep.  A  .Swiss  teamster  learned  it  from  a  woman  who  did  some  of  the  cooking 
about  the  mill,  received  a  little  of  the  gold,  spent  it  for  licjuor  at  the  nearest  store, 
and  then  the  fame  of  the  discovery  swiftly  ilew  to  the  ends  of  the  earth.  Cieneral 
Sutter  had  been  right  in  his  endeavor  to  keej)  the  discovery  secret  as  long  as. 
was  within  his  power,  for  no  sooner  did  the  gold  hunters'  invasion  set  in  than  it 
became  impossible  for  him  to  get  men  to  work  his  mill.  The  invaders  carried 
things  with  a  high  hand,  and  ended  by  setting  aside  his  title  to  his  land  and 
establishing  the  claims  which  they  had  made  upon  it.  Never  was  money  made 
with  anything  like  such  rapidity,  Nearly  every  ravine  contained  gold.  Nobody 
waited  to  get  machinery  to  begin  work.  Knives,  picks,  shovels,  sticks,  tin  pans, 
wooden  bowls,  wicker  baskets,  were  the  only  implements  needed  for  scraping  the 
rocky  beds,  sifting  the  sand,  or  washing  the  dirt  for  the  gold.  A  letter  in  the  New 
York  yoiirnal  of  Commerce,  toward  the  end  of  August,  said  of  the  hunt  for 
gold  :  "  At  present  the  people  are  running  over  the  country  and  picking  it  out 
of  the  earth  here  and  there,  just  as  dogs  and  hogs  let  loose  in  the  forest  would 
root  up  ground-nuts.  Some  get  even  tcMi  ounces  a  day,  and  the  least  active  one 
or  two.  They  make  most  who  employ  the  wilil  Indians  to  hunt  it  for  them. 
There  is  one  man  who  has  sixty  Indians  under  his  employ.  I  lis  profits  are 
a  dollar  a  minute.  The  wild  Indians  know  ncnhing  of  its  value,  and  wond(;r 
what  the  pale-faces  want  to  do  with  it,  and  they  will  give  an  ounce  of  it  for  the 
same  weight  of  coin  silver  or  a  thimbleful  of  glass  beads  or  a  glass  of  grog,  and 
white  men  themselves  often  give  an  ounce  of  it,  which  is  worth  in  our  mint  >si8 
or  more,  for  a  bottle  of  brandy,  a  bottle  of  soda  powders,  or  a  plug  of  tobacco." 

California  in  those  days  was  another  part  of  the  workl.  The  journey  to  it 
overland  took  weeks,  and  even  months,  and  was  full  of  perils  of  starvation  in  case 


528 


LELAND  STANFORD. 


of  storm  and  drought,  and  perils  of  slaughter  if  hostile  Indians  were  encountered. 
When  things  went  well  the  life  was  pleasant  enough,  and  is  most  picturesque  to 
look  back  upon.  The  buffalo  hunts,  the  meetings  with  Indians,  the  kindling  of 
the  camp-fires  at  the  centre  of  the  great  circle  of  wagons  drawn  up  to  form  a 


COl.I)    WASIIINC.    IN    CAI.ll'i'KNIA. 


bulwark  against  attack  and  a  corral  for  the  cattle,  the  story-telling  in  the  light  of 
these  camp-fires, — all  present  a  picture  which  men  will  love  to  dwell  upon  so  long 
as  the  memory  of  the  "Argonauts  of  I'orty-ninc "  survives.  Hut  there  were 
many  times   when   the  scenes  were  those  of  heart-sickening  tlesolation.     The 


CALIFORNIA  WAGES. 


529 


attacks  of  the  Indians  were  less  horrible  than  attacks  of  huno-er  and  disease 
which  set  in  when  the  emigrant  train  reached  a  territory  where  the  grass  had 
been  consumed,  or  lost  their  cattle  in  the  terrible  snow  storms  of  the  Sierras. 

The  journey  by  sea  was  hardly  safer  and  was  far  less  glorious,  luery  ship 
for  California  was  loaded  down  with  emigrants  packed  together  as  closely  as  so 
much  baggage.  Ships  with  a  capacity  for  five  hundred  would  crowil  in  fifteen 
hundred.  The  passage  money  was  from  $300  to  j^6oo.  The  companies  that 
were  able  to  get  their  ships  back 

again  simply  coined  money;  but  it  Sm^^i.' '  '  "''*-"  ,f^"^--.rfro--v^r--  ■'■T«*f::» 
was  no  easy  matter  in  those  days 
to  get  y.  ship  out  of  San  Francisco 
harbor.  The  crews  would  desert 
for  the  mines,  and  the  wharves 
were  lined  with  rotting  vessels. 
Vessels  which  did  make  the  return 
voyage  were  compelled  to  pay  the 
California  rate  of  wages.  One  ship 
in  which  the  commander,  engaged 
at  New  York,  received  $250  a 
month,  had  to  pay  on  return  $500 
a  month  to  the  negro  cook. 

San  Francisco  in  those  days 
was  the  strangest  place  in  the 
world.  In  February,  1S4S,  it  had 
hardly  more  than  fifty  houses  ;  in 
August  it  contained  five  hundred, 
and  had  a  large  population  that 
was  not  housed.  A  pamphlet  writ- 
ten in  the  fall  of  that  year  says  : 
"  From  eight  to  ten  thousand  in- 
habitants may  be  alloat  in  the 
streets  of  San  Francisco  ;  many  live 
in    shanties,    many    in    tents,    and 

many  the  best  wa)'  they  can."  The  best  building  in  the  town  was  the  Parker 
House,  an  ordinary  frame  structure,  a  part  of  which  was  rented  to  gambU.'rs 
for  $60,000  a  year.  I'^en  higher  sums  than  tliis  were  said  to  have  been  paid. 
The  accommodation  was  fearful.  The  worst  that  can  be  said  of  bad  hotels  may 
here  be  imagined.  The  pasteboard  houses,  hastily  put  up,  were  rented  at  far 
more  than  the  cost  of  their  construction,  for  every  one  figured  that  the  land  was 
as  valuable  as  if  it  had  been  solid  gold. 

The  greater  part  of  this  city  was  five  times  destroyed   by  fire  in  the  first 


(JI.l)    MIS.tIuN    INDIAN    1)1-    .1.11    Illl.RN    CAM  I  URN  lA. 


530  LELAND  STANFORD. 

three  years  of  its  existence  ;  but  the  people,  with  a  hopefiihiess  and  eneri^y 
which  nothing  coukl  put  down  or  burn  up,  would  set  to  work  antl  rebuild  it  almost 
as  quickly  as  the  llames  had  swept  it  away.  Everybody  worked.  The  poorest 
man  received  unheaivl-ot  wayes,  and  the  richest  man  was  obliged  to  do  most 
things  for  himself. 

When  business  of  every  sort  was  speculative  to  a  degree  so  close  akin  to 
gambling,  it  is  not  strange  that  gambling  itself  took  possession  of  the  people 
and  half  frenzied  tht;m  with  its  excitements.  Physical  insanity  was  a  frecpient 
result  of  the  moral  insanity  of  the  community.  There  were  few  women  in 
California,  aiul  most  of  these  were  of  the  worst  sort.  As  a  consequence,  the 
men  with  no  homes  to  go  to  in  the  evenings  went  into  the  gambling  saloons, 
where  they  stayed  till  late  at  night.  According  to  some  descriptions,  everybody 
gambled,  but,  as  Royce  points  out  in  his  admirable  "History  of  California,"  die 
same  men  who  talk  half-boastfully  of  the  recklessness  and  universality  of  the 
gambling,  in  the  next  breath  speak  with  great  fervor  of  the  strength  and 
genuineness  (jf  the  religious  life  which  soon  showed  itself  in  the  community. 
There  is  no  doubt  that  the  forces  for  good  as  well  as  for  evil  were  strong  from 
the  outset,  antl  as  tin;  community  grtnv  older  the  forces  for  good  kept  growing 
stronger.  More  and  more  wives  from  the  East  had  joined  their  husbands,  and 
the  young  women  who  came  from  the  East  among  the  emigrants  were  married 
almost  immediately  on  their  arrival.  Many  a  hotel  keeper  who  engaged  a 
servant  girl  at  $200  a  month  was  disgusted  to  find  that  she  married  and  left  him 
before  die  month  was  over.  With  the  introduction  of  family  life  came  a  return 
to  saner  moral  conditions,  and  by  1853  the  old  distempered  social  order  began 
to  be  spoken  of  as  a  thing  of  the  past. 

Never  were  so  many  men  from  so  many  different  places  suddenly 
thrown  together,  as  in  California  in  '4S  and  '49.  What  came  afterward  in 
Nevada,  and  later  still  in  Colorado,  was  like  it  in  kind  but  not  in  degree. 
The  Californian  settlers  of  the  early  days  were  without  law,  and  thousands 
of  miles  away  from  established  tribunals.  Every  man  was  a  law  unto  himself, 
except  when  the  community,  as  a  whole,  became  aroused,  and  forduvith  con- 
stituted itself  a  tril)unal.  The  Trrritory  was  indeed  nominally  organized  ;  but 
to  wait  for  the  regular  process  of  law  was  to  grant  immunity  to  crime.  The 
character  of  "miners'  justice"  may  be  illustrated  by  some  of  the  scenes  at 
Sonora,  where  gokl  was  first  discovered.  1 1  ere  there  had  been  law  and  order 
previous  to  the  miners'  in^  asion,  but  with  the  invasion  demoralization  set  in.  In 
the  fall  of  '48  the  new-comers,  following  the  Mexican  fashion,  elected  two 
"alcaldes,"  or  chief  officers,  but  when  one  of  the  storekeepers  at  the  settlement 
killed  a  man  in  a  light,  both  the  officers  promptly  resigned  rather  than  run  the 
risk  of  arresting  die  homicide;.  Another  storekeeper,  however,  called  the  people 
together  to  take  action.     This  storekeeper  was  promptly  elected  alcalde,  and  it 


"MIXERS'  justice:' 


53' 


was  decided  that  one  alcalde  was  enough.  A  prosecuting;  attorney  was  likewise 
required,  but  no  one  was  ready  to  take  the  office,  and  each  person  nominated 
promptly  declined  and  nominated  some  one  else.  I'inally  the  eners^etic  store 
keeper  was  obliged  to  accept  this  office  also.  The  meeting  succeeded  in  hnd- 
ing  a  second  man  to  take  the  office  of  sheriff  The  offender  was  arrested,  a 
jury  Impaneled,  and  the  trial  begun.  The  prisoner,  on  being  brought  in  court, 
uas  requested  to  lay  his  amis  on  the  table,  and  tlid  so.  Ou  this  table  stood  a 
plentiful  supply  of  brandy  and  water,  to  wliich  everybody  in  the  court-room 
Helped  himself  at  pU;a.sure.     Tin;  trial,  however,  proceeded  with  much  attempt  ai 


EXIXUTIdN    HY    THE   VIGILANCE   COMMITTEE    IX    SAN    FRANCISCO. 


legal  form,  and  presently  the  judge  arose  and  began  a  plea  for  the  prosecution. 

"  Hold  on,  lirannan,"  said  the  prisoner,    "  you  are  the  judge."     "  I  know  it," 

replied  that  official,  "  and  I  am  prosecuting  attorney,  too."     He  went  on  with  his 

speech,  and  ended  it  by  an  appeal  to  himself  as  judge  in  connection  with  die  jury. 

When  he  had  finished,  the  prisoner,  after  helping  himself  to  a  glass  of  brandy, 

made  an  able  speech  in  his  own  defense.     Night  came  on,  and  the  jury  scattered 

without  bringing  in  a  venlict.     The  prisoner  was  admitted  to  bail,  because  there 

was  no  prison  to  put  him  in.     The  next  day  the  jury  met,  but  disagreed.     A 

new  trial  was  held,  and  the  prisoner  acquitted. 
31 


53 J  I.ELASn  ST. IX FORD. 

The  t^old  fever  filled  California  with  a  population  almost  entirely  ii^norant 
of  the  sLirroundintrs  of  their  new  honu;,  and  almost  entirel)'  unprovided  with  the 
necessarv  appliances  for  lixin^'.  1  Ik;  most  terrible  hardshijis  were  endured  by  this 
population.  Thitre  was  nwxi  ot  every thiiii;-, — provisions,  clothing',  tools  and 
implements,  furniture;,  wagons  and  horses,  and,  al)o\f  all,  the  nu.-ans  of  transpor- 
tation. To  su|)[)ly  these;  essential  things  were  needed  men  who  had  the  brains 
and  foresis^ht  to  (piickly  sup[)ly  the  wants  of"  the  rai)idly  erowin^-  .State.  Mach 
man  was  bent  upon  takiny  care  of  himself  alone.  Where  were  the  men  to 
come  from  w  ho  should  take  care  ot  all  ? 

hito  this  strange  new  life  of  iIk;  Pacific  coast  came,  in  1S52,  a  man  who  was 
destined  to  bear  a  great  part  in  its  d(;velopment,  aiul  to  leave  a  name  forever 
associateil  with  its  history, — a  name  perpetuated  by  oik;  of  those  great  educa- 
tional institutions  which  form  "a  monunK;nt  mon;  enduring  than  brass,"  and 
whose  influence  will  remain  and  increase  when  marble  shall  have  crumbled  into 
dust. 

In  the  bcTutiful  Mohawk  \'alley  of  Xcw  York,  near  the  village  of  W'ater- 
vliet,  lived  the  father  of  Lelanil  .Stanford.  He  was  a  man  of  English  descent, 
whose  ancestors  long  before  had  made  their  home  auK^ng  the  Dutch  settlers  of 
the  X'alley.  He  was  a  plain  farmer,  anti  his  son  Leland  was  brought  up  to 
simple  country  living  and  hard  work.  In  after  life  he  was  fond  of  telling  how, 
when  six  years  old,  he  had  made  six  shillings  by  digging  horseradish  and  selling 
it  in  .Schenectady,  and  how  two  years  later  he  cleared  $25.00  by  gathering 
chestnuts  in  the  woods.  l-"or  education  he  had  the  ordinary  opportuniti(;s  of 
a  country  boy, — work  in  summer  and  study  in  winter.  .Soon,  however,  the 
youth  determined  that  he  would  have  an  education  to  fit  him  for  a  higher  level 
of  life.  His  father,  while  anxious  to  forward  his  son's  plans,  was  not  able  to 
provide  the  means.  It  happened,  however,  that  he  had  purchased  a  tract  of 
land  covered  with  timber,  which  he  had  not  time  to  clear.  He  made  Leland  an 
offer  of  the  wood,  on  condition  that  he  would  cut  and  haul  it  away,  leaving  the 
ground  clear  for  cultivation.  This  offer  the  bov.  then  ei<j-hteen  years  old, 
accepted.  He  had  saved  money  enough  to  hire  hel[)  in  chopping  the  wood,  and 
he  worked  persistently  until  he  had  the  tract  clear,  selling  the  wood' to  the 
Mohawk  and  Hudson  River  Railroad,  lly  this  operation  h(;  cleared  ^2600, 
besides  developing  the  knowledge  and  good  judgiiK'nt  which  w(;re  to  stand  him 
in  such  good  stead  a  few  years  later. 

With  the  proceeds  of  his  timber  young  Stanford  entered  upon  the  study  of 
law  in  .Albany,  antl  in  three  years  was  admitted  to  the  bar.  This  was  in  1S49. 
Then  arose  the  question  where;  to  sc;ttle.  Albany  was  the  State  capital,  and 
over-crowded  with  young  lawyers.  Like  thousands  of  other  young  men,  Stan- 
ford was  drawn  westward,  and  he  det(;rmin(;d  to  follow  his  drawing  ;  but  he  had 
an  anchor  in  .\lbany  in  the  shape  of  an  attachment  to  Miss  Jane  Lathrop,  the 


ARRirAL  AT  SACRAMEXTO. 


533 


daughter  of  a  prosperous  iiicrchaiit.  lie:  wisely  tlL-lcnnincd  to  draw  u|)  his 
anchor  ami  take  it  with  him  ;  in  otlu;r  words,  to  get  married,  whicli  he  did,  and 
then  started  for  Chicago. 

When  Stanfortl  reached  that  future  nietro|)olis  of  the;  West,  ii  was  in  the 
swani|j  stai^e  of  devel<)[)nitMU.  lie  perceivetl  its  possibilities,  and  inclintttl  to 
settle  there  ;  hut  it  h.ip[)ened  that  in  tiie  I'lrst  night  of  his  stay  he  was  torment- 
ed by  Lake  Michigan  mos([uit(x:s  to  such  an  extent  that  the  next  morning  he  rr- 
solved  to  escape  at  once,  lie  went  to  the;  town  of  Port  Washington,  on  the 
lake  above  Milwaukee,  where  he  opened  a  law  oltice.     I'or  a  lew  months  all 


GIANT    TRI-.F.    OF     IHF    YiwFMITF.    VAI.I.FY,    IN 
CAl.lFdKNIA. 


went  prosperously.  He  began  to 
secure  business,  mingUxl  in  poli- 
tics, and  joined  in  starting  a  news- 
paper ;  but  disaster  overtook  him  ; 
his  house,  office,  and  legal  library 
were  burnt,  and  he  was  left  almost 
penniless  to  start  again.    Like  many 

others,  he  too  had  been  attracted  by  the  sudilen  growth  of  California,  Several 
of  his  brothers  had  alreaily  settled  there,  and  he  now  resolved  to  join  du.-m.  In 
July,  1852,  after  a  long,  tedious,  and  tlangerous  journey,  he  reached  Sacramento. 
In  California  .Stanford  engaged  in  business-- with  his  brothers  as  a  merchant, 
and  quickly  became  successful.  1  Ic  easily  adapted  himself  to  the  novel  sur- 
roimdings  and  conditions,  and  his  knowledge  and  business  capacity,  joined  with 
his  personal  popularity,  soon  made  him  one  of  the  most  prosperous  and  promi- 
nent men  in  the  new  State.     Among  his  brothers  he  quickly  took  the  lead,  and 


RAILROADS  AXD  POLITICS  535 

it  was  characteristic  of  him  iJKit  ix^opii-  with  whom  lie  was  associated  quickly 
learned  to  [)lace  iinphcit  reliance  011  liis  hiisiiicss  ability  ami  ()riHlence. 

Ill  the  niiilst  of  the  absorbiii'^"  stru^'L^lt;  for  material  siicc<.;ss,  Stanford  was 
one  of  the  few  who  s.iw  far  enoii^h  into  the  future  to  perceive  the  political 
problem  which  was  be^'inniuLj^  to  [)ress  for  solution.  California  had  bet'n  counted 
upon  by  the  advocates  of  slavery  as  an  adtlition  to  tlu.-  territory  for  its  extension. 
The  line  of  the  Missouri  Compromise  (.SVt'  IIknrn  Ci.an)  ran  throui^h  the  Terri- 
tory, and  the  immiL;rants  were  from  both  free  States  and  sla\e  States.  .Stanford 
saw  that  the  development  of  tlu;  State  by  railroads  and  the  other  features  of 
civilization  would  tend  to  promote  the  siMitinit'iit  of  freetlom  rather  than  slavery, 
and  with  rare  wisdom  he  fostered  the  po[)ular  desire  for  railrt)ads,  as  a  ])olitical 
as  well  as  an  economic  movement.  The  t-xplorations  of  the  i;reat  "  Pathfinder," 
I'remont,  who  had  (.liscoveri'il  and  openenl  a  new  route  to  California,  and  his 
efforts  to  win  the  State  for  freedom,  enlisted  .Stanford's  enthusiastic  sym[)athy. 
1  le  was  one  of  the  most  earnest  of  those  who  joined  the  Republican  party 
at  its  establishment  in  1S54,  and  when  the  ielea  of  a  railroatl  across  the  moun- 
tains and  plains  to  California  tirst  came  to  be  agitated,  Stanford  was  one  of  its 
most  enthusiastic  sujiporters. 

In  1S59,  a  Railroad  Convention  of  the  .State  was  held  at  .San  Francisco. 
Delegates  were  present  from  all  over  California,  from  Oregon,  and  Washington. 
It  was  resolved  to  sentl  a  memorial  to  Congress,  indicating  the  route  preferred 
by  California,  and  asking  national  aitl.  The  I'acific  Railroad  (juestion  became  a 
prominent  factor  in  jjolitics,  ;ind  was  one  of  the  measures  taken  up  and  advo- 
cated by  the  Republican  party,  then  just  about  to  win  its  first  great  victory. 

In  i860,  when  the  Republican  National  Convention  met  at  Chicago,  Stan- 
ford was  there  as  a  delegate  from  California.  Lincoln  was  his  first  choice,  and 
he  was  overjoyed  at  his  nomination.  I  le  returneti  to  California  to  work  for  his 
election,  and  at  the  same  time  to  push  the  Pacific  Railroad  scheme. 

The  difficulties  of  building  a  railroad  across  the  mountains  were  immense. 
The  idea  of  taking  trains  of  cars  through  those  tremendous  canons,  and 
over  the  snow-capped  heights  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  seemed  to  many  people 
absurd  in  the  extreme.  In  the  spring  of  1S61,  when  the  L'nion  armies  were 
gathering  in  the  East,  a  meeting  of  the  leaders  in  the  Pacific  Railway  enterprise 
was  held  at  Sacramento,  and  there,  on  the  2Sth  of  June,  the  Central  Pacific 
Railway  Company  was  organized.  Mr.  .Stanford  was  chosen  President,  and 
half  a  dozen  of  the  wealthiest  antl  most  energetic  men  of  California,  Hunting- 
ton, Hopkins,  Crocker,  and  others,  were  made  directors  and  officers  of  the 
company. 

The  difficulties  of  the  enterprise  were  very  great.  A  few  of  the  most 
prominent  of  the  company  went  on  horseback  over  the  proposed  route  of  the 
.'oad.     When  they  reached  the  summit  of  one  of  the  great  mountain  ranges. 


536 


LELAXD  STAXIVRD. 


they  disinoiintcd,  and  sat  down  to  discuss  the  situation.  At  their  feet  \vas  a 
[>rcclj)ice  a  (juartcr  of  a  mile  in  iu-i^ht.  Tiie  idea  of  tarryiny  a  raih-oad  across 
these  mountains  sccmrd   impossible.     One  of  the  company  said  that  the  cars 

would  have 
to  be  hoisteil 
U|)  tile  siilcs 
of  tile  moun- 
tains by  der- 
ricks;  Init 
Mr.  .Stanford 
was  c  o  n  f  i  - 
d(;nt  that 
the  difficul- 
ties could 
be  overcome, 
and  he  su])- 
plietl  a  lari^e 
part  of  the 
I'lK'p^y  nec- 
essary to 
o  \'  c  r  c  o  m  o 
them. 
Wiiik  was  begun  and 
pushed  on  the  building  of  the 
road.  In  July,  1862.  came  the  re- 
sponse of  the  Government  to  the 
>./  company's  a[i|jeal  for  aid.  It  uas 
^^  a  proposition  to  loan  to  the  com- 
pany United  .Statt's  bonds,  at  the 
rate  o{  si '3, 000  pc-r  mile  to  the  foot  of 
the  mountains,  and  ^48,000  a  mile 
through  them.  The  first  forty  miles  furnished 
a  severe  test  of  the  courage  and  endurance 
of  the  projectors  ;  and  e\en  after  they  were 
cf)in|)leted,  they  had  still  to  meet  the  difficulty 
)f  supplying  the  immense  amount  of  money  needed  in 
construction.  Soon  began  a  race  with  the  company  which 
was  building  the  line  westward  from  Omaha.  The  Central  Pacific  Company  built 
530  miles  of  railroad  in  293  days,  a  feat  of  railroad  building  which  astonished 
the  world.  On  May  10,  1869,  the  last  spike  was  driven  at  Promontory  Point, 
Utah,  anU  the  long-desired  connection  of  California  with  the  East  was  complete 


A    ni-.E   KANiII 

IN    I.llWKR 
CALIKe.RNI  A. 


■inn  PALO  ALTO  RAXCJf. 


537 


III  the  meantime,  Mr.  Staiiforil  hail  not  noiL,'Iccted  his  political  ihilies.  In 
iS6j  he  accepted  llu;  Republican  nomination  tor  Gove-nior  of  C'alitornia,  and 
was  electt'd  by  a  ku^^e  majority.  \i  the  close  ot"  his  term  he  di  rlineil  re-elec- 
tion, as  the  war  for  the  I'nion  was  then  practically  won,  and  his  business  affairs 
recpilreil  all  his  attention. 

With  the  completion  of  the  I'acific  Railroad  be,L,Mn  an  era  of  ^rcat  pros* 
perity  in  California.     A  constant  llow  of  immigration  poured  in  from  all  parts 


VALLRY    IKRIGATIDN    IN    SOUTHERN    CALIFORNIA. 


of  the  United  States,  and  the  value  of  property  everywhere  increased  immetisely. 
Mr.  Stanford  was  a  lari^'^e  owner  of  real  estate,  and  in  these  years  the  increase 
in  its  value  made  him  immensely  wealthy. 

About  thirty  miles  south  of  San  Francisco  he  owned  an  immense  tract  of 
land  known  as  the  Palo  Alto  ranch,  and  here  he  built  himself  a  beautiful  home, 
supplied  with  every  luxury  that  wealth  could  secure.  A  most  bountiful  hospi- 
tality was  here  dispensed,  and  the  ranch  became  the  resort  of  prominent  men 


538 


LELAXD  STAXl-ORD. 


from  all  parts  of  tht;  State  and  nation.  I'ut  it  was  sonicthini:;-  more  than  a  mere 
country-scat.  Mr.  .Stanford  liad  al\va\s  tak(;n  a  drv[)  and  inlclliL;cnl  interest  in 
agriculture,  and  he  maile  of  his  I'alo  Alto  ranch  a  firm  wliich  did  much  to  show 
what  the  soil  ot  California  would  tlo  under  scientific  cultivation.  1  lis  \inr\atd 
was  the  largest  in  the  world,  antl  he  carried  on  an  experimental  fruit  farm  o.i  a 
great  scale,  llis  aim  was  to  de\-eloi)  the  possibilities  of  farming  in  Calif  irnia, 
and  widi  this  \-iew  he  also  esta])lishe(l  a  model  stock  firm,  where  he  di-xclopetl 
a  breed  ot  horses  which  soon  gaimxl  for  die  I'alo  Alto  ranch  a  wide  f  ime.  The 
best  cpialities  of  improved  stock  were  mingletl  with  thost;  of  the  nati\e  l)reeds, 
so  as  to  secure  th(i  best  points  of  all.  In  connection  with  his  scientific  culture 
of  stock,  Mr.  Stanford  was  one  of  the  first  to  make  use  of  the  new  process 

of  instantan(;ous  photography, 
which  liy  this  means  was  (hnel- 
opml  along  with  tlu'  raising  of 
horses.  He  secured  a  skillful 
practical  photographer,  put  un- 
limited means  at  his  disposal  for 
e.\p(-riment,  and  thus  produced 
results  which  astonished  the 
world. 

1)111  with  all  he  had  done, 
Mr.  Stanford's  life?  work  had  not 
yet  come  to  an  end.  1  le  had 
accumulated  immense  wealth, 
and  had  matle  for  hims(df  a 
2freat  name  ;  but  the  fin;at  uni- 
vcrsity  which  was  to  be  his  chief 
monument  had  not  yet  taken 
form  even  in  his  own  miml.  In 
Mr.  Stanford,  as  in  many  others, 
the  best  and  noblest  that  wa.s  in  him  was  called  out  by  aflliction.  In  iS6S, 
eighteen  years  after  his  marriage,  his  only  child,  Leland  Stanford,  Jr.,  was  born. 
To  the  loving  parents  this  boy  was  th(^  greatest  of  all  their  treasures.  Whatever 
they  did  was  done  with  a  view  to  his  future.  All  of  their  desires  and  affections- 
were  centr<,'d  on  him.  In  1SS4,  while  they  were  traveling  in  Italy,  the  boy  was 
stricken  with  Roman  fe\er,  and  died  at  Idorence.  There  is  a  touching  st(>r\ 
that  the  fither  (who  was  away  from  his  son  at  the  time  of  his  deathl  lirmly 
believed  that  in  his  dying  hour  the  boy  said  to  him,  "  Ivather,  don't  say  that  you 
have  nothinc>"  left  to  live  for  ;  \-ou  have  a  s/reat  deal  to  live  for."  From  that 
tniie  both  the  parents  resolved  to  devote  their  wealth  and  their  powers  to  the 
establishment  of  an  educational  institution  which  sh(juld  be  both  a  monumeni 


THE  GRi;.\T    DilMK   AMI    TIU.KSi'c  il'K   01-'   I.ICK   OESERVATORV, 
CAl.llORMA. 


540  LELAND  STANFORD. 

to  the  memory  of  their  dead  son,  and  the  means  of  giving  to  other  boys  and 
girls  the  training  for  Hfe  which  they  had  hoped  to  give  him. 

The  Leland  Stanford,  Jr.,  University  was  founded  in  1S87.  The  great 
buildings  are  located  on  the  Palo  Alto  ranch,  about  half  a  mile  from  the  .Stanford 
home.  In  his  address  at  the  laying  of  the  corner-stone,  Mr.  Stanford  said,  for 
himself  and  his  wife:  "  We  do  not  believe  that  there  can  be  superlluous  educa- 
tion. As  a  man  cannot  have  too  much  wealth  and  intelligence,  so  he  cannot  be 
too  highly  educated."  It  is,  however,  an  essential  part  of  the  scheme  of  edu- 
cation in  the  University  that  it  .shall  be  practical,  including  not  only  mathematical 
and  Scientific  studies,  but  also  those  which  lead  to  a  thorough  knowledge  of 
business, — farming,  engineering,  photographing,  type-writing,  and  book-keeping. 
The  whole  puri)ose  of  the  University  may  be  expressed  by  saying  that  it  is 
intended  to  give  the  youth  of  California  a  practical  education. 

Leland  Stanford,  Jr.,  University  is  one  of  the  most  richly-endowed  educa- 
tional institutions  in  Am(!rica.  Not  only  does  it  own  the  immense  property  on 
which  it  is  located,  but  also  some  78,000  acres  in  other  parts  of  the  .State.  In 
addition  to  these  enormous  properties,  an  amount  of  money  was  given  sufficient 
to  support  the  institution  with  an  endowment  of  some  $20,000,000  ;  and  besides 
diis,  the  larger  part  of  the  estate  of  .Senator  .Stanford  is  to  go  to  the  University 
at  the  death  of  his  wife.  Claiins  of  the  United  States  against  the  Central 
Pacific  Railroad  have  of  late  years  threatened  to  impair  the  property  which 
forms  this  great  endowment ;  but  it  is  to  be  hoped  that  nothing  will  be  per- 
mitted to  really  endanger  the  prosperity  ami  success  of  the  University. 

In  1887  Mr.  Stanford  was  chosen  United  .States  Senator  from  California. 
While  never  distinguished  as  an  orator  or  political  leader,  he  was  regarded  as 
one  of  the  most  practical  and  efiicient  business  men  in  the  Senate.  His  favorite 
measure,  which  well  illustrates  his  |)hilanthropic  intentions,  was  a  scheme  known 
as  the  '"land  loan,"  which  provided  for  the  lending  by  the  United  States  of 
money  to  owners  of  farms  and  other  real  estate  on  the  security  of  their 
property. 

The  years  that  he  spent  in  Washington  were  years  of  intense  toil,  and  in 
1892  his  health  broke  down.  At  the  close  of  the  session  of  Congress,  in  the 
spring  of  1803,  he  returned  to  his  Palo  Alto  home,  convinced  that  he  should 
never  again  leave  it,  and  there  on  the  20th  of  June  he  died.  It  was  characteristic 
«  f  him  that  his  affairs  were  at  his  death  found  in  the  most  perfect  order,  so  that 
iio  harm  or  shock  of  any  sort  could  result  to  any  person  dependent  upon  him. 
His  wife,  who  in  all  his  plans  of  beneficence  was  in  the  closest  sympathy  with 
him,  was  made  his  executor. 


GEORGE  W.  CHILDS, 

THE     QREAT    I^UBLISHER    AND    P-HIIvANTHROPIST. 


HERE  are  two  kinds  of  men  who  are  especially  interesting 
to  Americans, — successful  men  who  have  risen  by  their 
own  abilities,  and  wealthy  men  who  have  used  their  wealth 
in  doing  good.     Never,  perhaps,  was  there  a  man  who  more 
completely  combined  in  himself  both  of  these  characters 
than  George   W.  Childs.     In   one  respcxt  he  was  almost 
unicjuc, — he   seemed   to   have   no    enemies.     This  quality 
usually  indicates  weakness  of  character ;  but  though  Mr. 
Childs  was  one  of  the  most  amiable  of  men,  no  one  ever 
accused  him  of  lacking  force.     He  had  the  rare  faculty  of  ac- 
complishing his  purposes  without  crossing  or  offending  others ; 
and  this  quality,  combined  with  his  generosity  and  goodness  of  heart,  made  him 
one  of  the  most  universally  popular  men  that  America  has  ever  produced. 

George  William  Childs  was  born  in  IJaltimore,  Md.,  on  May  12,  1S29.  His 
parents  died  when  he  was  very  young.  His  opportunities  for  intellectual  de- 
velopment were  limited,  and  he  received  but  little  schooling.  It  is  said  that, 
even  as  a  child,  he  exhibited  two  traits  seldom  found  in  one  individual — a 
remarkable  aptitude  for  business,  and  an  unusual  liberality  in  giving  away  the 
results  of  his  quickness.  At  a  very  early  age  he  develoi)eil  a  sense  of  the  value 
of  time,  and  an  inclination  toward  independence  and  self-sup|)ort.  In  his  tenth 
year,  when  school  was  dismissetl  for  the  summer,  he  took  the  place  of  errand 
boy  in  a  book-store,  and  thus  spent  the  vacation  at  work.  When  thirteen  years 
of  age  he  entered  the  navy  as  an  apprentice  on  board  the  United  .States  ship 
Pennsylvania.  He  remained  in  the  service  only  fifteen  months,  and  it  is  proba- 
ble that  during  this  time  was  laid  the  foundation  of  that  disposition  toward  per- 
(ect  order  and  system  which  always  thereafter  marked  his  own  conduct  and  the 
direction  of  the  great  newspaper  to  which  it  was  ordained  he  should  attain. 

When  he  was  fifteen  years  okl  young  Childs  went  to  Philailelphia  under 
similar  circumstances  to  those  untler  which  anodier  poor  boy,  Benjamin  l-'ranklin, 
once  walked  the  streets  of  the  Quaker  City.  Like  Franklin,  he  was  poor  and 
almost  friendless,  and  like  him  he  was  destined  to  make  his  mark  in  a  printing- 

543 


544 


GEORGE  \V.  CHILDS. 


office.  I  Ic  obtained  cin[)l()ynicnt  in  a  book  store,  kept  by  an  old  Ouaker 
named  l^eter  Thompson,  in  Arch  street.  He  did  his  work  so  well  that,  after  a 
year's  service,  he  was  intrustetl  \\\i\\  the  responsibiUty  of  attending  the  book 
auctions,  and  soon  became  known  ;<.s  the  regular  representative  of  his  employer 
at  the  trade  sales  in  New  York  antl  Boston.  1  le  worked  for  Mr.  Thompson  four 
years,  and  saved  a  few  hundred  dollars.  With  this,  and  the  more  valuable 
capital  of  a  knowledge  of  his  business  anil  the  good  opinion  of  his  associates, 
he  determined  to  start  for  himself  At  this  timt;  he  was  a  quiet,  studious  lad, 
spending  all  his  spare  time  in  reading.  He  hired  a  small  room  in  the  building 
then  occupied  by  the  Public  Ledger,  and  did  so  well  that,  before  he  was  twenty- 
onc^  the  head  of  the  old  firm  of  R.  K.  Peterson  (S:  Co.,  publishers,  sought  an 
alliance  with  him,  and  the  house  of  Childs  (S:  I'eterson  was  the  result. 


^  '^fe* 


1  / 


>.,  V 


AN    OI.Ii    Ciil.dNlAI,    IKirsK   NKAR    ntl  I.AIlKI  rillA. 


Writing  in  later  life  of  his  start  in  the  world,  Mr.  Childs  said  :  "  When  I  left 
home  to  come  to  Philadelphia,  I  overheard  one  of  my  relatives  say  that  I  would 
soon  have  enough  of  that,  and  would  be  coming  back  again.  lUit  I  made  up 
my  mind  that  I  never  would  go  back — I  would  succeed.  I  had  health,  the  power 
of  applying  myself,  and,  I  suppos(',  a  fair  amount  of  brains.  I  came  to  Phila- 
delphia with  three  dollars  in  my  |)ockct.  I  found  board -and  lodging  for  two 
dollars  and  a  half  ami  then  I  got  a  place  in  a  bookstore  for  thr(H;  dollars.  That 
gave  me  a  surplus  of  fifty  cents  a  week.  I  did  not  merely  do  the  work  that  I 
was  absolutely  required  to  do,  but  I  did  all  I  could,  and  put  my  whole  heart  into 
it.  I  wanted  my  em])loyer  to  feel  that  I  was  more  useful  to  him  than  he  expected 
me  to  be.     I  was  not  afraid  to  make  fires,  clean  and  sweep,  and  perform  what 


A  succEssrrL  publisher.  5.13 

might  be  considered  by  some  young  gentlemen  nowadays  as  menial  work,  and 
therefore  beneath  them. 

"While  I  was  working  as  errand-boy,  I  improved  such  opportunity  as  I  had 
to  read  books  and  to  attend  book-sales  at  night,  so  as  to  learn  the  market  value 
of  books,  and  anything  else  that  miglit  be  useful  to  me  hereafter  in  my  business. 
It  was  my  aim  always  to  be  in  a  position  where  I  could  use  my  best  talents  t(/ 
the  best  advantage.  I  tixed  my  ambition  high,  so  that,  even  if  I  did  not  realize 
the  highest,  I  might  at  least  always  Ix^  tending  upwards." 

The  new  firm  was  well  calculated  to  succeed.  Mr.  Peterson  had  good 
literary  taste,  and  his  partner  hatl  the  lousiness  aptitutle  of  knowing  whether  a 
book  was  salable,  so  that  after  a  book  hatl  been  issued  young  Childs  was  able  to 
push  its  sale  to  a  remunerative  number  of  copies.  Thus  the  combination  pros- 
pered. One  of  the  first  works  published  by  the  firm  was  "Wells's  b'amiliar 
Science,"  which  Mr.  Childs's  energy  pushed  to  a  sale  of  200,000  copies.  Oth<;r 
well-known  successes  of  the  firm  were  "  Dr.  Kane's  Arctic  b'x[)lorations,"  "  In- 
stitutes of  American  Law,"  "  Fletcher's  Brazil,"  "  Parson  Hrownlow's  Book,  " 
and  many  others. 

Mr.  Childs  remained  in  the  publishing  business  for  about  twelve  years. 
He  had  long  desired  to  be  the  owner  of  a  leading  newspa|)er.  This  had  been 
his  ambition  for  years,  and  while  he  was  still  a  lad  he  fixed  his  eyes  upon  what 
was  then  the  popular  daily  journal  of  Philatlel|)hia — the  Public  Lcdj^cr — and 
resolved  that  one  day  he  would  be  its  proprietor.  The  audacity  of  such  a 
thought  in  a  boy  of  eighteen  can  hardly  be  appreciated  by  any  one  who  was  not 
familiar  with  Philadelphia  at  the  time  and  with  the  solid  basis  of  prosperity  upon 
which  the  Ledger  stood. 

HE    BUYS    THE    "  LEDGER." 

At  last  the  long-wished-for  opportunity  came.  James  Parton  tells  the  story 
in  this  way : — "  The  Public  Ledger  had  fallen  upon  evil  days.  Started  as  a 
penny  paper  in  1836,  the  proprietors  had  been  able  to  keep  it  at  that  price  for  a 
quarter  of  a  century.  But  the  war,  by  doubling  the  cost  of  material  and 
labor,  had  rendered  it  impossible  to  continue  the  paper  at  the  original  price, 
except  at  a  loss.  The  proprietors  were  men  naturally  averse  to  a  change. 
They  clung  to  the  penny  feature  of  their  system  too  long,  believing  it  vital  to 
the  prosperity  of  the  Ledger.  They  were  both  right  and  wrong.  Cheapness 
was  vital,  but  in  1864  a  cent  for  such  a  sheet  as  the  Ledger  was  no  price  at  all 
it  was  giving  it  half  away.  Retaining  the  original  price  was  carrying  a  good 
principle  to  that  extreme  which  endangered  the  principle  itself 

"The  establishment  was  then  losing  ^^480  upon  every  number  of  the  paper 
which  it  issued.  This  was  not  generally  known.  The  paper  looked  as  pros- 
perous as  ever  ;  its  circulation  was  immense,  and  its  columns  were  crowded  with 
advertisements.     And  yet  there  was  a  weekly  loss  of  ^3000, — $150,000  a  year! 


546  GEORGE  W.  GUILDS. 

Upon  Icarniiii,^  this  fact  the  friends  i)f  Mr.  Cliikls  whose  opinion  he  souq;ht  said 
with  decision,  '  Don't  buy  !  '  i\everth<,'!ess,  he  lookeil  the  ground  carefully 
over  ;  he  made  minute  calculations  ;  he  kept  on  his  thinking  cap  day  and  even- 
ing. Me  bought  the  Public  Lcdi^cr — the  whole  of  it,  just  as  it  stood — for  a  sum 
little  e.xceeding  the  amount  of  its  annual  loss." 

From  the  day  of  the  purchase  of  the  Lcdi^cr  Mr.  Childs  b(;camc  its  sole 
controller  ami  gave  all  his  attiiuion  to  the  work.  He  brought  the  paper  up  out 
t)f  the  ilepths  to  which  it  had  sunk  linancially,  until  at  the  tinu;  of  his  death  it  was 
one  of  the  most  valuabU- and  profitabU;  in  this  countr}-,  and  Mr.  Childs  forniany 
years  had  been  in  the  receipt  ot  a  princely  income. 

.\  ckKAi"  i;i;.\i:iA(-r(  iR. 

How  s/enerousiv  and  ncjbh' this  wealth  has  been  emijloved  all  the  world 
knows  in  a  general  way,  tlu)ugh  no  one  will  prob;ibl\-  ever  know  all  the  good 
done  by  him.  ( )f  Cieorge  W.  Childs  it  may  be  said  with  exact  truth  that  since 
Providence  blessed  .  im  with  means  he  constantly  sought  out  o;)portunities  to 
benefit  his  fellow-creatures.  1  le  not  only  gave  Hberally  when  it  was  asked  of 
him,  but  it  was  his  delight  to  seek  out  deserving  cases  where  his  money  and  his 
friendship  would  exchange  poverty  for  comfort,  suffering  for  happiness. 

lie  often  gave  in  secret,  and  thousands  who  were  too  proud  and  sensitive 
tc  make  their  wants  known  have  blessed  an  unknown  donor  for  substantial  help 
which  was  sadly  needed.  Mr.  Childs  loved  to  make  those  in  his  employ  happy 
and  prosperous.  He  erected  a  new  building  for  his  news|)aper  which  combined 
comfort  with  c;legance  in  a  remarkable  degree.  Such  conveniences  as  bath- 
rooms antl  ice-water  fountains  aljound,  and  every  work-room  is  a  model  of 
comfort.  I'^ery  man  in  his  employ  received  a  good  salary  and  a  handsome 
Christmas  present  every  year. 

When  the  Typographical  Union  voluntarily  reduced  the  price  of  composition 
in  1.S7S,  Mr.  Childs,  on  receiving  the  otticial  notification,  said  quietly:  "I  shall 
not  make  any  reduction  of  wages  in  this  office.  My  business  has  not  suffered 
by  the  depression,  and  why  should  my  men  suffer?  Why  should  not  they 
continue  to  receive  the  benefit  of  my  succc.'ss  ?  " 

Every  man  in  his  employ  was  assured  of  a  position  during  good  behavior, 
and  Mr.  Childs  said  more  than  once  that  he  had  provided  in  his  will  that  no 
changes  were  to  be  made  in  the  person iicl  of  the  Lcdj^rr  after  his  death.  He 
took  a  personal  interest  in  the  affairs  of  his  workmen,  and  often  made  a  careless, 
unthrifty  fellow  a  present  of  a  bank  book,  with  a  sum  to  his  credit,  as  an  Induce 
ment  to  save  money.  It  was  his  priile  that  e\-ery  man  of  family  in  his  employ 
should  own  his  dwelling-house,  and  he  fretpiently  advanced  money  to  pay  for 
the  houses  of  his  workmen,  without  securitv.  He  presented  his  assistants 
with  insurance  on  their  lives,  and  sent  to  Europe  or  on  other  pleasure  trips  the 


THE  PRJXTLRS'  HOnii. 


547 


heads  of  his  departments  when  coiifineinent  to  business  affected  their  licaUh. 
Me  presented  to  the  IVpo^raphical  Society  a  lar^e  l)urial  ph)t  in  Woodlands 
Cemetery,  ljesich;s  contrihiitiny  to  the  society's  endow  in,  nt.  1  le  frecpiently  sent 
entire  charitable  institutions  on  pleasure  excursions  iluriiin'  '^'i^'  'i**^  weather,  and 
the  l'V)urth  t)f  July  and  Christinas  he  was  accustonieil  lo  celebratt;  bv  a  bano'iet 
to  the  newsboys  or  bootblacks,  or  by  some  other  iMiK-rtaimnent  to  the  street 
waifs. 

Messrs.  Childs  and   Prexel  sent  their  respective  checks  for  ^5000   to  the 
Convention  of  the  hiternational    lypoyraphical   Union  in  1886,  then  in  session 


ACAhKMY    OF    THK    FINF,    ARTS.    I'll  1 1.  \I  iKl.l'il  I  A. 


at  Pittsburcrh,  provision  ])eint;  made  that  the  individual  members  should  have 
the  opportunity  to  assist  in  aut^mentinsj;  the  funtl  until  it  was  sufficient  to  estab- 
lish a  "  Home  "  for  disabled  printers.  It  was  arrani^^ed  that  the  printers  east  of 
the  Mississippi  should,  for  this  ]nirpose,  contribute  the  price  paid  for  setting'  one 
thousand  ems  on  INIr.  Childs"  birthday.  May  12.  of  each  year,  and  those  west 
of  the  Mississippi  should  do  likewise  on  the  annual  recurrence  of  Mr.  Drexel's 
birthday,  September  13. 

Speakin<j^of  jrivinj:;^.  Mr.  Childs  wrote  :  "  I  think  the  habit  of  "generosity  niay 
be  cultivated,  like  other  habits.     And  I  have  felt  that  it  is  a  great  mistake  to  put 
32 


5(8  GEORGE  \V.  GUILDS. 

oiT  buiiiLj  i^cnerous  until  after  j-oii  an-  cl(,-a<l.  In  the  first  place,  you  lose  the 
pleasure  of  witnessiiiL,^  tlte  L^^^ootl  that  you  may  ilo  ;  and,  aj^ain,  no  one  can 
administer  your  ,L;ifts  for  you  as  we'll  as  you  can  do  it  for  yourself  It  is  a  i^reat 
pleasure  to  be  brought  into  personal  rttlations  of  that  kind,  and  to  make  people 
feel  that  you  are  not  a  philanthropist  in  the  abstract,  but  that  you  are  intitrestetl 
in  them  personally,  and  care  for  tlieir  \vi;lfare." 

"One  naturally  thinks  of  Chilils,"  writes  Julian  Hawthorne,  "in  connection 
with  the;  late  George  Peabody.  The  two  men  wc;re  fri(;nds,  and  in  the:  latter 
years  of  I'eabody's  life  he  once  spoke  to  Chihisas  out;  rich  man  to  another,  'I 
have  worked  hartl  to  make  money,'  he  said,  '  with  the  intention  of  ni\in,L4'  it  away 
in  larL,^e  amounts.  1  nu;an  to  s^ive  it  away  in  my  own  lifetime,  so  as  to  enjoy  the 
pleasure  of  seeing-  and  overseeinL^r  the  i^^ood  it  does.  I  do  not  wish  my  heirs  and 
connections  to  be  impatient  for  my  cU;ath,  consequently  have  Li^iven  to  each  of 
th(;m  liberally.  I  wish  to  tlistribute  its  effects  wid(dy,  rather  than  concentrate 
them  in  any  one  direction,  '{"here;  is  value,  not  only  in  the  act,  but  in  the 
e.xample  it  furnishes  to  others.  If  you  will  take  my  atlvice,  you  will  be  your 
own  executor,  and  be^in  betimes.'  Mr.  Childs  was  cpiick  to  adopt  counsel  so 
consonant  with  his  own  predilections  ;  and  he  has  bettered  his  instructions." 

Ctl'TS    To    oTIlKK    ColXTKIKS. 

So  Li'reat  was  his  reputation  for  liberality  that  he  probably  received  more 
applications  for  help  than  any  other  man  in  thi;  country.  Hes^rgin^-  letters  came 
to  him  by  the  score  in  his  daily  mail,  aiul  visitors  on  bej^oinj^  missions  were 
constantly  callini^  on  him.  Me  was  always  easy  of  access,  and  very  seKlom 
turned  a  deaf  ear  to  a  deserviui,'-  case.  ISut  his  f^ootl  works  were  not  confined 
to  his  own  city  and  country.  He  presented  to  Westminster  Abbey  an  el(;^;ant 
stained  j^lass  memorial  window  in  honor  of  the  poets  George  Herbert  and  Wil- 
liam Cowper.  In  1887.  the  jubilee  year  of  Queen  Victoria,  Mr.  Childs  presented 
to  the  town  of  Stratford-upon-Avon,  the  birthplace  of  Shakespeare,  a  public 
drinkini^  fountain,  with  clock  tower.  He  subsequently  j^ave  to  St.  Mari^aret's 
Church,  Westminster,  London,  a  memorial  window  to  John  Milton.  This  orift 
was  inspired  by  his  friend.  Archdeacon  Farrar.  This  window  was  formally 
unveiled  on  the  i8th  of  I'Y'ljruary,  1S8S.  In  March,  1S89,  there  was  unvcnh^d  in 
St.  Thomas'  Church,  Winchester,  England,  a  reredos,  the  gift  of  Mr.  Childs  also. 

In  many  other  ways  he  has  given  of  his  w(;alth  to  worthy  objects  in  I'^ng- 
land  and  on  the  continent.  As  a  compliuKMit  from  the  English  government  he 
was  appointed  in  1876  Honorary  Commissioner  for  Great  Britain  and  the  Colo- 
nies to  the  CfMitennial  I-lxhibition.  He  ncn'er  hekl  any  other  public  office.  He 
was  frequently  urginl  to  accept  a  political  appointment,  and  was  asked  to  repre- 
sent his  country  abroad  in  an  exceedingly  exalted  position,  but  he  refused  this, 
as  he  did  every  other  similar  offer. 


D  /S  TLV(;  i  'ISllED  G  L  'ES  TX 


549 


The  homes  of  Mr.  Childs  wvxr.  th(^  alxnles  of  i)ictiiresqiie  beauty  and  of 
evcrythiiiL^-  that  could  make  them  iiuitinn'.  In  l?ryn  >hi\vr,  oiu-  of  Philadclpliias 
pretti«jst  suljurbs,  was  his  country  house,  known  l)y  the  nanut  of  "  W'ootlon." 
Circat  lawns  slopini^  away  on  all  sides  of  thir  house  are  ilotted  huri!  ami  lluTe 
with  trees,  L-very  one  of  which  has  been  planteil  by  some  man  or  woman  whose 
name  has  served  to  make  the  history  (jf  tcj-tlay.  It  is  a  briL;lu,  bree/y,  wiile- 
halled,  and  charmingly  ramblini,^  structure,  and  it  is  tilKxl  with  costly,  (juaint,  and 
beautiful  ihiuL^^^s  from  all  parts  of  the  world. 

Amonj^^   Mr    Childs'  guests  were  (jenerals  Clrant,  Sherman,  Meade,  Sheri- 


■J;*=Ji?>5*' 


TIIK    riKEXKI.    IN^TIIIIK,    I'M  II.AIII-I  I'll  lA,    !•(  irNDKI)    IIY    MR.    CIIILDS'    rklKNll    AM)    I'.VKTNKR. 


dan,  Hancock,  McDowell,  and  Patterson  ;  Eilmund  Ouincy,  Chief  Justice  Waite, 
A.  J.  Drexel,  Asa  Packer,  the  Astors,  CadwalacU;rs,  Professor  loseph  Henry. 
Hamilton  P'ish,  Rf)berr  C.  Winthrop,  Charles  Francis  Adams,  Presidents  Hayes. 
Arthur,  and  Clexclaiul  ;  Chauncey  M.  1  )epew,  Cornelius  X'anderbilt.  Thomas  A 
Pxlison,  .Simon  Cameron,  Henry  Wilson,  William  M.  Evarts,  James  G.  Blaine. 
John  Welsh.  August  Pelmont.  Ale.vander  H.  .Stei)hens,  Samuel  J.  Tilden,  Cyrus 
W.  Field,  P.  J.  Lossin,L,^  Mrs.  Grover  Cleveland,  Charlotte  Cushman,  Christine 
Nilsson,  Harriet  Hosmer,  John  Biq-elow,  Thomas  F.  Bayartl.  Parke  Godwin, 
Edwards  Pierrepont,  and  many  others. 

Mr.  Childs  said  that  one  of  the  chief  pleasures  of  his  life  had  been   the 


550  GEORG/i  W.  C/fff.DS. 

kccpinj,^  of  an  open  house  to  worthy  and  distintjuishocl  persons.  The  reception 
he  ^ave  to  the  Emperor  and  Empress  of  Brazil  was  perhaps  the  niDSt  notable 
gatherini,^  ever  assembletl  in  any  private  house  m  America.  There  were  six 
hundred  i^niests,  and  Mr.  Childs'  was  th*-  first  private  house  at  which  the  I'jnperor 
iiid  l'jn[)ress  hail  ever  been  entertained. 

Anioiii;'  his  English  visitors  were  the  Duke  and  Duchess  of  lUickint^ham, 
the  Duke  of  Sutherland,  the  Duke  of  Newcastle,  Lords  Dufferin,  Rosebery, 
Mouj^hton,  llchester,  Ross,  Iddesleigh,  Raylelyh,  Herschel,  Caithness,  and 
Dunraven  ;  Sir  Stafford  Northcote,  Lady  I'ranklin,  Dean  Stanh-y.  Canon 
Kin_t,fs]ey.  Charles  Dickens.  Gi'orL,'^e  Aui^ustus  Sala,  Joseph  Chamberlain,  M,  V.  ; 
James  Anthony  I'Voude,  Professor  Tyndall,  Professor  Ponainy  Price,  Atlmiral 
Lord  Clarence  Papet.  Sir  Philip  Cunliffe  Owen.  Colonel  Sir  Herbert  Sanford, 
Charles  Kean,  ALarquis  de  Rochambeau,  John  Walter,  ]\L  P. ;  .Sir  Charles  Reed, 
Herbert  .Spencer,  Thomas  Hughes,  M.  P.;  Sir  John  Rose.  Sir  Edmond Thornton, 
and  Robert  Chambers,  D.  C.  L. 

Mr.  Childs  was  an  intimate  friend  of  General  Grant  and  of  many  of  the 
representative  men  of  this  country  and  Europe.  A  friend  of  his  says  :  "  When 
I  carried  letters  from  him  to  liurope,  in  1S67,  his  name  was  a  talisman,  and  it 
was  pleasant  to  see  how'  noblemen  like  the  Duke  of  Buckingham  honored  the 
indorsement  of  an  American  who  thirty  years  ay^o  was  a  poor  boy." 

His  closest  p(!rsonal  friend,  probably,  was  Mr.  Anthon)'  J.  Drexel,  the  banker. 
They  were  intimately  associated  both  in  business  and  social  matters,  and  there 
was  a  lon»j;--continued  partnership  of  the  two  in  charitable  work.  Every  niorninij 
in  pleasant  weather  Mr.  Childs  could  be  seen  at  the  same  hour  walking-  down 
Chestnut  street  to  his  office  by  the  side  of  his  friend,  Mr.  Drexel,  and  in  the 
afternoon  the  familiar  fiyurcs  could  be  seen  returnini..;;  tocrether.  "  Remembering 
their  good  deeds,"  says  one  writer,  "the  reader  of  Dickens  was  very  apt  to 
think  of  the  Cheeryble  Brothers  as  he  saw  the  plump  and  smiling  figures  of  the 
two  friends  as  they  walked  up  Chestnut  street  on  an  afternoon." 

Mr.  Childs  died  in  Philadelphia,  after  a  brief  illness,  on  February  3,  1S94. 

In  person  Mr.  Childs  was  rather  below  the  medium  height.  He  was 
inclined  to  be  stout,  but  made  it  a  rule  to  walk  to  and  from  his  office  and  to  live 
very  temperately.  He  had  a  bright,  smiling,  amiable  face,  and  was  never 
known  to  be  out  of  temper.  He  was  gifted  with  the  faculty  of  placing  every 
one  at  ease  in  his  company,  and  it  was  said  of  him  that  he  gave  a  Christmas 
dinner  to  newsboys  and  bootblacks  or  dined  traveling  dukes  and  earls  with  the 
same  ease  and  familiarity. 

"  Perhaps  I  cannot  better  sum  up  my  advice  to  young  people,"  writes  Mr. 
Childs,  "  than  to  say  that  I  have  derived,  and  still  find,  the  greatest  pleasure  in 
my  life  from  doing  good  to  others.  Do  good  constantly,  patiently,  and  wisely 
and  you  will  never  have  cause  to  say  that  your  life  is  not  worth  living." 


'^^ri^^r<:'^^ 


^:^^'^ 


MARSHALL  FIELD, 

THE    MODERN     BUSINESS    xMAN 


THE  term  "New  West"  to  most 
of  us  is  apt  to  call  up  a  picture 
of  the  growth  of  a  j^reat  a^ri- 
cultural  country;  of  vast  areas 
of  land  brought  under  cultixa- 
tion  ;  of  enormous  crops  raised  ; 
of  improved  processes  in  farmin<^ 
and  miniuij;".  Hut  the  new  West 
in  reality  includes  a  o-rcat  ileal 
more  than  tliis.  With  the  u/owth 
of  the  country  ha\e  s[)runt^-  up 
i^reat  cities,  which  are  just  as 
typical  f(^'Uures  of  th('  West  as 
tile  mines  of  Colorado  or  the 
wheat  farms  of  ]\d-;ota.  The 
most  important  cro[),  after  all,  is 
the  crop  which  is  raised  in  cities 
as  well  as  in  the:  country, — the 
crop  which  imleed  raises  the 
citi(!s, — namely,  the  crop  of  wn.  Marshall  iMeld  is  one;  of  the  men  who  has 
made  the  new  West.  Mis  in(Uu:nce  on  the  growth,  track;,  ami  habits  of  m(;r- 
cantili!  life  would  be  hard  to  measurt;.  A  more;  complete  contrast  lietween  the 
West  of  to-day,  and  the  West  as  it  wa's  when  he  became  a  part  of  It,  w  'uld  be 
hard  to  find. 

Marshall  Field  was  a  countrx'boy,  born  in  Conway,  Massachusetts,  in  1835. 
His  father  was  a  farmer,  a  man  in  mod(!rate  circumstances,  a  le  to  L^ive  his  son 
the  moderate  but  sound  education  which  every  intellii^MMVt  New  Encjj-land  farmer 
considers  imlispensable.  I  le  had  in  his  boyhood  the  atlvantat,^es  of  q-ood  public 
schools,  and  later  of  the  Conway  Academy.  Marshall  was  a  quiet,  thouL,ditful 
boy,  always  inclined  to  make  the  most  of  his  opportunities.  He  never  liked 
'arming,  however,  but  from  his  earliest  years  inclined  toward  o   mercantile  life  ; 

553 


I.AKK 


kl:     lyKlX  1  .    CUlCACiU. 


554 


MARSHALL  FIELD. 


and  when  ht;  was  sevcMitecn  left  the  farm  and  went  to  Pittsfield,  where  he  obtained 
einpU)ynient  in  a  country  store.  1  lere  he  remained  four  years,  and  exhausted 
the  opportunities  of  the  situation,  so  far  as  business  traininijwas  concerned.  In 
these  four  years  he  develojjed  a  determination  to  reach  sometliiui^-  higher  than 
was  attainable  in  a  New  England  country  town.  The  tendency  of  the  time  was 
toward  the  West,  and  in  1856  he  left  Massachusetts  and  made  straight  for 
Chicago,  where  he  bixame  a  salesman  in  the  wholesale  dry-goods  house  of 
Cooley,  Farwell  (!^  Co. 


A   CHICACO    MANSION    IN    'rUK    KARI.Y    DAYS. 


When  ^Marshall  Field  reached  Chicago,  the  city,  and  the  whole  country  as 
well,  was  in  a  state  of  wiUl  unrest  and  feverish  growth.  Chicago  had  been 
;)rlginally  built  on  the  prairie  level  ;  not  high  enou;;h  above  the  waters  of  the 
lake  to  permit  cellars  und(.'rneath  the  houses,  or  to  allow  facilities  for  drainage. 
The  grade  of  the  street  w'as  being  raised  some  eight  feet,  and  the  buildings  also 
had  to  come  up  to  the  same  level.  The  streets  were  in  a  state  of  chaos,  and 
going  round  tlunn  was  a  perpetual  going  up  and  down  stairs. 

The  most  characteristic  feature  of  western  life  In  the  year  preceding  the 


GRO 1 1 TJ/  01'  A  GREA  T  HO  USE.  5  5  5 

panic  of  1857  was  unsettleincnt.  The  L^n'owth  of  the  country  was  tremendous  ; 
the  crops  \vc;re  uicreasinL;  enormously,  and  die  stream  of  immigration,  increasinLj 
the  population  and  the  products  of  the  country  to  an  iniheard-of  extent,  taxed 
every  avenue  of  trade  to  the  last  decree.  To  do  business  saiely  amid  the  cliani^- 
iny  life  of  a  new  country,  wh(;re  men  were  poor  one  day  and  rich  the  next,  anil 
where  few  took  time  or  had  the  prudence  to  ascertain  from  day  to  day  where 
Lhey  stood,  re([uired  rare  abilities  and  a  "  l(;vel  heatl."  The  whole  tiMulency  of 
business  at  such  a  time  is  s[)eculative.  To  be  conser\ative  is  well-nii^h  impossi- 
ble. Marshall  FieUl  had  a  conservative  mind  :  he  was  cool,  careful,  calculatinsj^, 
prudent.  To  such  a  man  a  training'  in  th(;  miilst  of  such  conditions  was  invalu- 
able, antl  it  helped  him  in  great  degree  to  form  the  character  which  became  the 
basis  of  such  great  success. 

Over  this  chaos  of  unhealthy  growth,  s[)eculation,  and  unsettlement  the 
panic  of  1S57  swept  like  a  tornado.  Of  the  prominent  businc^ss  houses  oi 
Chicago  one  of  the  survivors  was  that  of  Cooley,  Farwell  &  Co.,  and  the  lessons 
which  were  received  in  that  time  of  trial  made  Marshall  Field  indispensable  to 
the  house  he  served.  By  i860  he  had  worked  his  way  up  to  the  position  of 
junior  partner.  Then  came  the  llush  times  of  the  war,  and  the  unsettlement  of 
financial  conditions  produced  by  a  fluctuating  currency.  15ut  such  conditions  as 
these,  which,  in  a  man  of  less  steadiness,  would  have  produced  a  tendency 
toward  speculation,  worked  exactly  the  other  way  with  Marshall  Field.  As  the 
temptations  to  reckless  dealing  multiplied,  he  grew  more  cautious  and  careful. 
While  everybody  else  was  expanding  credits,  he  was  restricting  them.  .Safety 
was  the  first  condition  insisted  upon,  and  the  result  was  to  establish  the  house 
upon  a  basis  which  nothing  could  shake. 

In  1865  the  firm  was  re-organized,  and  Mr.  Field,  who  had  for  some  time 
been  the  real  head,  becan-!e  so  in  name  as  well,  the  title  of  the  firm  being 
changed  to  Field,  Palmer  &  Leiter.  Two  vears  later,  with  the  witlulrawal  of  Mr. 
Palmer,  the  firm  was  changed  to  Field,  Leiter  6e  Co.,  the  guiding  and  control- 
ling spirit  of  the  house  remaining  still  the  same. 

After  the  war  the  life  of  the  West  exhil)ited  still  the  sam<i  conditions.  In 
those  well-remembered  years  of  expansion  and  s[)eculation  preceding  the  panic  ol 
1S73,  the  great  firm  of  which  Mr.  Meld  was  the  head  went  on  the  steady,  safe 
course  which  was  inevitalile  und<!r  his  control.  1  heir  business  grew  (;\('n  more 
rapidly  than  that  of  others,  although  .Mr.  I'ield  had  a|)plied  to  it  conditions 
which  many  in  the  same  lin(>  of  business  believed  to  be  absolutely  preventive  of 
growth.  At  a  time  when  other  houses  were  extending  almost  unlimited  credit 
to  their  customers,  and  tlvMnselves  buA-ing  on  a  similar  basis,  hi;  restricted  credits 
absolutely  to  thirty  and  sixty  days,  and  required  absolute  promptness  in  the 
meeting  of  accounts  when  due.  This  was  of  itself  sufficiently  novel  ;  but  a  still 
more  novel  feature  was  that  of  paying  cash  for  all  purchases,  thus  restricting  the 


556 


MAKSn.l/.L  J'/JiLD. 


credit  which  h(;  took  even  more  rigidly  than  that  which  he  q^ave  to  buyers.  Nor 
could  he  be  tempted  to  speculate  upon  the  credit  of  his  house  in  other  ways. 
He  absolutely  retusetl  to  sell  l^ooiIs  of  inferior  character,  no  matter  what  the 
inducements  otiereci.  11c;  insisted  upon  [jractically  quaranteeiiiL;'  the  (piality  of 
all  jj^oods  sokl ;  antl  this,  with  the  low  prices  which  a  practical  cash  s)'steni 
enabled  him  t(j  make,  drew  to  his  house  the  cream  of  the  trade  from  a  large  part 
of  the  entire  West. 

In  1 87 1  came  another  great  blow,  but  of  a  ditterent  kind.     This  was  the 


■liii:  m  KMNc,  III-  ciii'-'Ac.o  IN  1S71. 


fire  which  almost  entir(:;ly  destroyed  the  city  of  Chicago.  I\Tr.  Field  was,  of 
course,  well  itisured  ;  no  man  of  his  well-known  prud(-nce  would  neglect  that ; 
l)utin  this  emergency  insurance  itself  failed,  for  so  many  of  the  companies  were 
wip(;d  out  by  the  disaster  that  a  comparatively  small  part  of  the  insurance  had 
was  available. 

"  W'ltat  next?"  was  th(,'  question  on  thousands  f)f  lips,  as  mem  stood  gaz- 
ing on  the  smoking  ruins  of  Chicago.  \\\\\\  Marsliall  b'ield  it  was  a  cpiestion 
of  the  best  thing  available.     Few  buildings  of  any  kind  were  left  staniling  ;  but 


AFTI.R  THE  CRIiAT  I'IRh. 


557 


it  the  corner  of  State  and  TwcntiL'th  streets  were  some  horse-car  slieils  which 
had  been  spared  by  the  lire.  W  hile  the  smoke  was  still  rising  h'oin  the  ruins 
of  the  great  city,  Mr.  ideld  hired  these  sheds,  and  be!_;an  to  lit  them  up  fur  the 
accommodation  of  the  dry-^oods  business.  At  the  same  time  sjan<'s  of  men 
were  set  to  work  clearini;'  away  the  ruins  of  the  burned  stores  of  the  firm,  and 
erecting  on  them  new  buildings  lor  permanent  use.  \\\  the  next  year  the  new- 
stores  were  ready  lor  occupancy,  hi  rebuilding  a  great  improvement  had  bet'i, 
made  by  separating  the  retail  from  the  wholesale  dei)artment,  giving  to  each  a 
building  adapted  to  its  own  especial  netxls. 

On  the  heels  of  the  fire  came  the  great  panic  of  1S73  ;  but  the  house  of 


''Si  . 


.v-TffT-^S 


11 


iji 


W\Mm 


wiioi.KSAi.r,  PTiinr  or  m\k-iiai.i.  Fir.i.i)  *  co. 


Marshall  Field  tv  Company  passed  through  It  unscathed,  Ir  was  hart!  to  ruin  a 
house  which  owed  nothing,  and  whose  customers  had  paid  all  bills  up  to  within 
two  months.  The  long  credit  concerns,  almost  without  exxeption,  went  down  in 
the  crash,  but  'Ww  Field's  house  stootl  more  firm  than  ever. 

In  the  years  that  followed,  the  business  grew  steadily.  The  wholesale 
department  especially  expanded,  until  in  1SS5  it  was  necessary  to  build  once 
more.  In  that  vear  was  becfun  a  buildimj^  of  granite  and  sandstone  which  is 
to-day  one  of  the  finest  wholesale  dry-goods  establishments  in  the  world.  To 
the  retail  store,  building  after  building  has  been  atld(;d  on  the  .State  street  side, 
and  later  a  magnificent  annex  at  Wabash  avenue  and  Washington  street.     In 


558 


MARSHALL  FIELD. 


1S65  Mr.  Field's  firm  did  a  business  ai:^cri"CLi'Uin.<r  $8,000,000  ;  in  1892  the  t\L,aires 
had  risen  to  $70,000,000. 

In  1 88 1  Mr.  Leiter  withdrew  from  the  firm,  and  the  name  became  Marshall 
I'ield  &;  Company.  It  consists  of  Mr.  Fii^ld  and  ei^ht  junior  partners.  Ail  of 
these  have  thrown  up  in  th(;  house.  'Ww.  store  is  a  c^reat  school,  which  hat 
f  n-nished  from  its  L,n-atluates  not  only  the  heads  of  the  business  itself  but  also 
Heads  for  many  other  businesses  throut^hout  the  country. 

"  Glancin^r  over  the  hundreds  of  men  in  the  wholesale  department  yester 


Till-:  AriJiTiiRUM  i;rii.iiiNi:,  ciiicAco. 


day,"  says  a  Chicat^o  reporter,  "the  writer  saw  a  splendid  display  of  brifjht 
voung-  faces.  Scarcely  an  employee  in  the  buildinq' could  boast  of  forty  years  of 
life,  and  gray  hairs  were  not  in  line  at  all.  With  scarcely  an  exception,  every 
man  in  a  responsible  position  has  grown  up  with  the  house,  and  won  his  spurs 
by  merit ;  and  in  a  number  of  cases  the  spurs  carry  from  sio.ooo  to  $30,000  per 
year  salary  with  them.  It  is  in  a  great  measure  true  of  Marshall  b'ield  & 
Company's  employees  that  they  are  'raised  in  the  house,'  and  among  them  the 
great  merchant  has  found  his  most  loval  friends  and  ablest  counsellors." 


Gjants  OF  America  Y^ 


'n\ 


^:s^m% '^~!?^ 


JOHN  WANAMAKER, 

THK    GREAT     13USINHSS    ORGAXIZER. 


.«    rr9 


HE  time-hoiiorcd  sayiny  that  "  What  man  has  clone,  mau 
may  do,"  has  cheered  and  encoiirai,''ed  multitudes  of 
patient  workers,  toilini^  upward  along'  the  steep  road 
to  success.  But  among'  the  mass  are  a  few  whose  motto 
might  well  read,  "  I  will  do  what  others  have  never  yet 
done."  Something  of  originality,  of  special  and  unique 
ixnver,  marks  the  individuality  of  a  few.  iVmong  these  is 
John  Wanamaker.  1  le  has  not  only  achieved  success,  but 
in  achieving  it  he  has  wrought  changes  in  the  business 
world  which  will  long  remain  as  marks  and  monuments  of 
the  peculiar  powers  which  distinguish  his  character. 
John  Wanamaker  was  born  in  Philadelphia  in  1S37.  Lik(i  many  other 
Americans  who  have  risen  to  the  top,  he  began  at  the  bottom.  Mis  f^ither  was 
a  brickmaker,  and  the  boy's  first  business  experience  was  in  "  turning  bricks" 
and  doing  odd  jobs  around  the  yard.  When  he  was  a  few  years  older,  school 
had  to  be  given  up  for  steady  work.  He  found  a  place  as  errand  lioy  in  a  book- 
store, where  he  earned  a  salary  of  $1.25  a  week.  b2v(.'ry  morning  and  evening 
he  trudged  over  the  four  mil(!s  whicli  lay  between!  his  home  and  the  store,  eating 
at  noon  the  simple  lunch  which  he  brought  with  him  from  home,  put  up  for  him 
by  a  loving  mother's  hands. 

Soon  he  left  the  bookstore,  and  secured  employment  in  a  clothing  store  at 
$1.50  a  week, — a  large  advance  to  him  then,  lie  quickly  began  to  rise.  He 
was  prompt,  obliging,  civil  to  customers,  ami  attentive  to  business,  lie  was  one 
of  the  kind  of  boys  that  are  always  in  demand.  His  salary  began  to  rise  also. 
,uid  kept  on  rising. 

lohn's  [)o\-(.'rty  had  obliged  him  to  leave  school  with  a  very  limited  educa- 
tion ;  but  he  was  always  anxious  to  get  niore.  He  read  and  studied  in  the 
evenings,  and  improved  ev(>ry  oi>portunity  to  add  to  his  stock  of  knowledge. 
In  later  years,  when  he  was  asked  how  he  got  his  education,  he  answered,  "1 
took  it  in  as  I  went  along,  as  a  locomotive  takes  up  water  from  a  track  1",".^."  It 
is  said  that  he  received  a  special  impulse  toward  study  by  hearing  a  sermon  in 

561 


56: 


JOHN  WANAMAKER. 


which  the  s[)cakcr  used  a  numl)(!r  of  words  the  ineanin,i,f  of  which  John  did  not 
know,  i  laving'  a  ^ood  iiuMiiory,  he;  carriciil  thest;  words  in  his  liead  unlil  the 
next  morninL,'',  when  he  hail  a  chance  to  look  them  up  in  the  ilictionary.  lie 
concluded  tiiat,  as  the  preacher  would  not  he  likely  to  use  wortls  which  were  not 
understood  by  most  of  the  conirrey^ation,  the  troulile  must  be  that  John  Wana- 
maker  was  uncommonly  ignorant  ;  and  this  c6ndition  of  attairs  he  resolveil  to 
remedy. 

When  the  civil  war  broke  out  in  iS6i.  John  W'anamaker  was  twenty-three 
years  old.  lb;  hatl  saved  a  little  money,  hatl  acfiuired  a  thorou,i,^h  knowledi^e 
of  the  clothing;'  business,  and  married  a  wife.  In  .\pril  of  that  year  he  formed  a 
partnership  with  his  brother-indaw,  Nathan  Hrown,  ami  (;mbarked  in  the  clothing- 
business  at  Si.\th  and  Market  stre(;ts.     I'rom  the;  bei;innini;-  the  business  pros- 

pereil.  lioth  th(;  partners  were  practical 
men.  No  unnecessary  help  was  employed. 
They  wen;  not  ashamed  to  take  down  the 
shutters,  to  swe(;p  the  store,  or  to  deliver 
packaj;es  themselves,  if  necessary.  Hut 
th(!  business  soon  reached  dimensions 
which  gave  them  other  work  to  do.  It 
was  perpetually  outgrowing  its  f.icilities 
in  e\(.;ry  direction  ;  antl  to  me(;t  and  pro- 
vide for  this  I'x'panslon  calU'(l  into  exer- 
cise just  those  powers  which  Mr.  W'ana- 
maker possesses  in  such  wonderful  meas- 
un;, — the  powers  of  organization.  In  iS6S 
Mr.  ISrown  died.  My  1S71  the  business 
had  absorbed  all  the  space  from  Market 
to  the  next  street, — a  space  which,  when 
die  firm  began  Inisiness,  had  been  occupied  by  forty-five  tenanls.  .Still  it 
continued  to  grow,  and  in  1S75  the  large  block  occupied  by  the  old  Pennsyl- 
vania freight  depot,  at  Thirteenth  and  Market  streets,  was  bought,  and  a  store 
built  for  a  business  of  a  new  kind.  The;  old,  rambling  freight  station  was 
remodeled,  and  turned  into  a  great  mart  of  traile,  where  dry  goods,  clothing, 
furniture,  books,  and  nearly  everything  in  the  shape  of  supplies  for  the  person 
and  the  home  wen;  sold,  a  separate  department  b(;ing  devoted  to  (;ach.  Upon 
the  establishment  of  this  great  "department  store,"  Mr.  Wanamaker  concen- 
trated all  his  energies,  and  the  experience  of  his  previous  career  in  his  extensive 
tines  of  business. 

It  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  Mr.  Wanamaker's  innovations  upon  previous 
methods  have  revolutionized  the  manner  of  conducting  retail  businesses  in  gen- 
eral.    Up  to  the  time  when  his  clothing  store  began  to  make  its  mark,  the  atti- 


imlN    W.vNAMAKIR    A';    A    YOfNr,    MA\. 


A7-ir  /iC'S/.\7-SS  J//: 77/( ' AS'. 


5^3 


tiule  of  merchants  toward  customers  was  coininoiil)-  rather  that  of  a  i)arty  doiiii^^r 
a  favor.  The  modern  spirit  of  doin^  (:\ crythiiiL;'  possiliK:  to  conciliate  .iiul 
accommotlate  the  customer  was  ahnt)st  unknown.  Tlie  characteristics  of  retail 
stores  we-ri:  ne^li^t-nt,  inilifU:rent,  antl  soMu;times  surly  salesmen;  slowness,  con- 
fusion, and  lack  of  method  in  tli-liverin^'  i^oods,  and  L;(;neral  absence  of  tlu;  spirit 
of  seeking;'  antl  cultivatinu;  business,  wliich  is  now  the  rule  insteael  of  the  excep- 
tion. Moreover,  a  sale  once  made  was  made  forever.  A  merchant  who  in  that 
day  was  asked  to  takt:  back  unsatisfactory  L^^oods  and  return  the  mone\'  would 
hav(i  met  the  retpiest  with  contemjituous  astonishment.  \\'anamak(!r  chan^'etl 
all  this.  He  not  only  sought  trade,  but  made  it  evident  that  he  was  seekin^j 
trade.  A  custonuT  coming;;  into  his  store  was  met  as  a  courteous  host  would 
meet  a  Sliest,  ills  wants  wi're  ([uickly  ascertained  ;  he  was  jjut  in  the  hands 
of  a  polite  ami  accommodating'  salesman, 
who  did  everything'  in  his  power  to  supply 
hint  with  the  article  that  suited  him  ;  and  if 
for  any  reason,  or  even  without  reason,  the 
goods  which  he  hail  bought  did  not  please 
him,  they  might  be  r(;turned,  and  tlie  money 
was  repaid.  Wht'ii  this  last  ft-ature  was 
inaugurated,  it  was  looked  upon  with  in- 
credulous contempt  by  competitors.  "That 
won't  last  long,"  the\'  saitl  with  coiitulence  ; 
but  not  only  did  it  last,  but  they  were 
themselves  obliged  to  conform  to  the  prac- 
tice, ami  it  is  now  the  uniform  custom 
among  the  best  stores. 

From  the    time   when    he   Hrst   began 
business,    John    Wanamaker    had    a    rare 

appreciation  of  the  value  of  advertising,  and  his  persistence  and  originality  in 
this  field  have  always  distinguished  his  business.  In  this  respect  also  he  was  a 
pioneer.  Before  his  time  the  capabilities  of  advertising  were  little  known  or 
believed  in.  It  was  done  fitfullv  and  carelesslv  at  best.  The  idea  of  advertising 
a  retail  business  regularly,  week  in  ami  week  out,  rain  or  shin(,',  good  business 
or  bad  business,  was  one  which  was  almost  as  novel  as  Wanamaker's  plan  of 
returning  the  money  for  unsatisfactory  goods.  F"or  some  time  after  these  in- 
novations were  begun,  he  had  the  field  to  himself  His  competitors  had  no  faith 
that  such  new-fangled  notions  woukl  last,  and  waited  with  contemptuous  confi- 
dence for  his  business  to  wind  itself  up.  Hut  they  waited  in  vain.  Instead  of 
ruining'  his  business  under  these  methods,  it  grew  at  such  a  rate  that  it  was 
almost  impossible  to  provide  accommodations  for  itw-hich  did  not  in  a  few  years 
become  too  small.     As  it  grew,  Wanamaker  grew.     Every  year  developed  his 


GEORGE   H.    STCART,   ONE   or   MR.  WANAMAKER'S 
I'ROMINLN  1'    I,'  i-LAlHiRKKb. 


564 


JOHN  WANAMAKER. 


wonderful  orijanizinj,'-  powers,  and  when  thi;  time  came  for  the  purchase  of  the 
great  building  at  Thirteenta  and  Market  streets,  he  was  better  prepared  than 
ever  before  to  build  upon  it  a  store  in  which  should  be  carried  on  a  business 
that  would  embody  the  results  of  all  his  previous  experience. 

The  secret  ot  Mr.  Wanamaker's  great  success  in  l)usiness  maybe  summed 
up  In  one  word, — Organization.  It  has  been  his  imiform  practice  to  secure  for 
the  heatls  of  de[)artments  the  best  men  to  be  had,  regardless  of  cost.  Many 
nKMi  in  his  em[)loy  receive  salaries  larger  than  those  of  cabinet  ministers.  They 
are  given  full  latitude  for  exercising  all  their  best  powers,  anil  full  reward  for 
success.  Each  h(!ail  of  a  department  is  treated  as  though  he  were  himself 
the  owner  and  master  of  the  (U.-partment.  He  is  charged  with  all  the  ex- 
penses of  the  department,  including  his  share  of  rent  and  atlvertising,  the  sala- 
ries of  clerks.  Ijookkeepers.  etc.  On  the  other  hand,  he  is  crediteil  with  all  of 
the  profits  made  in  his  department,  and  if  h(;  is  able  to  show  gootl  results  and 

increased  sales,  hi*  position  becomes  bet- 
ter and  better.  He  is  alloweil  to  manage 
his  department  in  his  own  way,  limited 
only  by  certain  fixed  rules  of  policy  com- 
mon to  the  entire  store.  This  system  of 
management  gives  the  responsible  heads 
of  the  business  every  incentive  to  do 
their  best,  and  results  in  an  organization 
which  is  well-nigh  perfect. 

In  adilition  to  the  other  motives  fur- 
nished by  Mr.  Wanamaker  for  those  in 
his  employ  to  do  the  best  of  which  they  are  capable,  it  has  been  for  some  years 
his  practice  to  share  profits  to  a  certain  extent  with  his  employees.  At  the  end 
of  the  first  year  after  this  practice  was  begun,  $100,000  of  profits  were  received 
by  the  employi^es  of  the  Thirteenth  street  store. 

Considering  the  great  load  which  Mr.  Wanamaker  has  carried  for  many 
years,  and  considering  also  the  fact  that  he  has  not  followed  the  beaten  paths  of 
trade,  but  has  been  a  great  innovator,  and  constantly  introducing  novel  methods 
of  business,  it  is  not  surprising  to  learn  that  he  has  more  than  once  been  on  the 
edge  of  failure  ;  but,  like  the  greatest  generals,  he  is  a  man  who  does  not  know 
when  he  is  beaten.  He  refuses  to  recognize  tlefeat,  and  the  result  has  been 
that  even  the  greatest  emergencies  have  been  met,  and  victory  secured.  He 
has  not  only  learneil  how  to  do  business  himself,  but  he  has  taught  thousands 
of  others.  Deijartment  stores,  conducted  on  the  same  plan  as  that  of  the  great 
emporium  at  Thirt(.'enth  and  Market  streets,  have  sprung  up  all  over  the  I'nited 
States  :  and  for  the  ease  with  which  buyers  of  all  sorts  of  goods  at  retail  can 
now  make  their  purchases,  and  for  the  general  tone  of  reliability,  accommoda- 


HKTI1ANV    >lNIiAYSll|illiI,   TKNT,    IS59. 


HETIIANY  SUNDAY-SCHOOL. 


56s 


tion.  proini)tness,  and  cheapness  which  pervade  retail  busin'iss,  the  buyers  of 
to-day  have  chiefly  to  thank  John  W'anamaker. 


Ills    WDKK    iMk    olIIKKS. 


No  one  who  knows  the  aboundinLf  and  restless  enerj^-^y  which  characterizes 
Mr.  W'anamaker.  antl  his  humane  desire  for  the  welfare  of  othi:rs,  woulil  (expect  to 
find  his  time  employed  e.\clusively  for  his  own  benefit.  His  |)ul)lic  work  has 
long  been  a  most  important  part  of  his  lift;.      Hefore  he  went  into  th'-  clothing 


IIK.rilANY    ClIlKc  II    AND   SINDAV  SClIOdI,    lUII.DlNC 


business  in  1S61  h(;  filUnl  th('  position  of  .Secretary  of  the  Young  Men's  Chris- 
tian Association  of  Philadelphia,  an  organization  in  which  his  interest  has  never 
ceased.  \\\  later  years,  when  he  was  carrying  on  a  very  large  business,  he 
became  the  President  of  this  Association.  His  genius  for  organization  has 
wrought  results  in  that  body  no  less  important  than  those  which  he  had  alrea<.ly 
brought  about  in  his  own  lnisin(!ss.  He  he-lpccl  to  point  out  and  chn-elop  the 
possibilities  of  the  organization,  which  had  hitherto  bc^en  little  known.  During 
his  presidency  the  splendid  new  builtling  of  the  Association  at  P'ifteenth  and 
Chestnut  streets  was  built,  and  this,  like  his  store,  was  an    object  lesson  to 


566  JOHN  WAXAMAKER. 

others  who  wc.xv.  carryiii!,  on  the  suinc  hiu-  of  work.  Since  that  time  handsome 
biiikUiiL;-.  lor  iionies  of  the  local  associati(jns  ha\e  s[)runL;-  up  in  nearly  all  the 
iarj^e  cities  of  the  L'niteil  States,  and  in  these  homes  are  foimd  facilities  for 
instruction,  tor  social  work,  and  for  the  help  and  bc'tternient  of  youiitj;  men  .gen- 
erally, which  have  matle  the  YouniL;-  Men's  Christian  Association  such  a  power 
for  i^ood. 

( )ne  of  the  most  characteristic  of  .Mr.  Wanamaker's  enterprises  outside 
of  his  own  business  is  the  .Suntlay-school  of  Bethany  Presbyterian  Church,  of 
which  he  has  loni^r  been  superintendent.  His  connection  with  this  now  famous 
school  L,^oes  l)ack  to  the  days  when  he  was  a  poor  and  stru^^TniL;'  youni^'  man. 
hi  the  early  days  of  his  business  life,  and  while  still  embarrassed  by  narrow 
means.  Mr.  Wanamaker  went  into  one  of  the  rouj^hest  districts  of  Philadelphia, 
where  low  groj^fs^eries  abountled,  and  opened  a  .Sunday-school  in  a  shop  occupied 
durin<^  die  week  by  shoemakers.  The  district  was  one  of  tht?  lowest  and  most 
disorderly  in  the  city.  It  was  even  looked  upon  as  dan^^erous  to  attempt  such 
work  in  such  a  nei^hborhooil.  Hut  to  Mr.  Wanamaker  the  obvicjus  reflection 
was  that  the  worse  the  n(ML;hborhood  th(;  L;reater  the  need  oi  improvemc;nt. 
lie  succeedeil  in  interestinsj^  the  chiUlren,  and  the  children  interested  their 
parents.  After  a  few  months  the  school  had  so  increased  that  it  outL^rew 
the  accommodations,  and  a  lar^^e  ti.'nt  was  rentetl  in  which  it  was  carried  on 
tluriuLi'  the  summer.  Prom  this  l)eL;inninL;'  L^rew  up  the  famous  Bethany  .Sunday- 
school,  which  is  now'  one;  of  the  largest  in  the  country.  Out  of  the  school  iL^a'ew 
a  church,  whose  membership  is  made  up  largely  of  the  parents  of  the  .Sabbath- 
school  children,  and  of  the  .Sabbath-school  children  themselves,  who  have  o-rown 
to  manhood  and  womanhood  in  the  years  since  this  work  was  begun,  .Sunday- 
school  and  church  together  have  wnnight  a  great  change  in  the  character  of 
that  district,  and  now  the  person  who  shoidd  suggest  that  there  was  danger  in 
att<'mpting  to  do  such  work  in  that  neighborhood  would  be  met  with  surprise 
intleed. 

It  is  characteristic  of  Mr.  Wanamaker  that  for  rest  from  business  he  turns, 
not  to  idleness,  but  to  work  of  a  tlitferent  S(.)rt.  I  lis  .Sundays  are  spent  in 
religious  work  of  various  kinds.  He  is  interested  in  movements  for  the  spread 
of  practical  Christianity  in  almost  every  direction.  He  was  one  of  the  pioneers 
in  the  Moody  and  .Sankey  revival  movement,  and  before  the  freight  station  was 
remodeled  as  a  store  in  ICS75,  it  was  for  some  months  used  for  the  meetings, 
where  frequendy  twenty  thousand  persons  were  gathered  at  one  time.  He 
was  one  of  the  original  organizers  of  the  Christian  Commission,  and  of  the 
Citizens'  Relief  Committee,  a  Philailel])hia  organization  which  gives  aid  in  cases 
of  sutlden  disaster,  pestilence,  or  other  trouble  anywhere,  which  appc.'als  to  the 
sympathies  of  the  citizens  of  Philadelphia,  He  is  one  of  th<!  managers  of  the 
Williamson  Trade  School,     At  the  time  of  the  Centennial  E.xposition  he  was 


POSTMASTKR-  GENERA  L. 


■/>7 


Chairman  of  the  Bureau  of  Revenue,  ami  raised  the  first  million  dollars  for  that 
g^reat  enterprise,  lie  was  also  Chairman  of  the  Press  Committee,  and  in  many 
ways  aided  to  make  the  work  successful.  \\  hen  Mr.  Harrison  was  elected  to 
the  Presidency  in  i.SSS,  Mr.  Wanamaker  ent(!r(;d  his  cabin(a  as  Postmaster- 
General, — a  position  for  which  his  talents  and  experience  in  business  orj^'aniza- 
tion  especially  fitted  him.  His  administration  of  the  Post-Office  Department 
was  mark(;d  by  a  number  of  reforms,  and  a  L,'reat  improvement  in  its  methods. 
At  the  end  of  his  term  of  office  he  took  a  well-earneil  vacation,  makini,^  with  his 
family  an  extensive  tour  throut,di  the  United  States  and  Mexico.  On  this 
journey  he  received  many  tokens  of  hij^h  esteem  and  wide  popularity. 

Mr.  Wana- 
maker has  rjiven 
to  the  various 
charities  and 
benevolent  en- 
terprises what  is 
of  more  value 
than  m  o  n  e  y, 
namely,  himself 
and  his  abilities. 
Even  when  the 
tluties  of  Post- 
master-General 
of  the  United 
States  were 
added  to  his  al- 
ready enormous 
undertakinfr.s,  he 
came     reijularly 

every  week  from  Washington  to  Philadelphia  to  superintend  his  .Sunday-school 
at  Hethany.  But  few  have  been  more  generous  givers  of  money  as  well.  He 
has  given  over  5'oo.C)00  to  Bethany  Church  and  Sunday-school  ;  he  has  given 
$100,000  to  the  Young  Men's  Christian  .Association.  The  Childn-n's  Wing  of 
the  Presbyterian  Hospital,  practically  a  complete  hospital  in  itself,  was  paid  for 
by  Mrs.  Wanamaker.  I  le  has  (established  on  Broatl  street  a  home  for  those 
of  his  female  employees  who  have  no  regular  home  in  the  city  ;  ami  in  m.iny 
other  ways  Mr.  Wanamaker  has  given  proof  of  the  spirit  of  practical  good  work, 
which  is  the  moving  force  of  his  whole  life. 


I.INDl'NlirRST,"    MR.    \V ANAM AKKR's    r.irSTKY    RF.SinF.Ni:F.    MAR    IKNKINTdWV,    lA. 


33 


>'^>  -, 


'j~^'^">^ 


f^ 


m.^. 


3  4  5  6789 

ri.ACKS   OF   WORSIIfP    IN    NEW    YORK    IN    I742 
«.  Lutheran.    2.  French.    3.  Trinity.    4'  New  Dutch,    j.  Old  Dutch.    6.  Prcsbjieriaii.    7.  Baptitt.    8.  Quaker.    9.  SynagojBt. 


HENRY   WARD   BEECHER, 

THE    OREAT     I'ULPIT    OKATOK    ANO     REFORMER. 


IN  the  dark  days  of  the  War  of  i8ia 
there  lived  and  labored  in  the  town 
of  Litchfield,  Connecticut,  a  Conjrrc" 
gational  minister  named  Lyman 
Beecher.  Like  most  preachers  of 
that  day,  he  was  poor  in  this  world's 
jroods,  but  rich  in  children.  Seven 
of  these  already  j^^athered  around  his 
fireside  when,  on  June  24,  181 3.  his 
son  Henry  Ward  Beecher.  destined 
to  leave  so  deep  and  strong-  an  im- 
press upon  the  life  and  thought  of  his 
day,  was  born. 

Dr.  Beecher's  salary  was  eight 
hundred  dollars  a  year,  not  always 
promptly  paid  ;  and  under  these  cir- 
cumstances it  may  easily  be  imagined 
that  the  tenth  member  of  the  family 
received  only  such  care  and  attention 
as  were  absolutely  required.  The 
struggle  for  existence  was  too  severe 
to  leave  much  time  or  thought  for  other  things.  Litchfield  was  a  mountain 
town,  where  the  winter  was  a  stern  reality  for  six  months  of  the  year,  where 
there  were  giant  winds,  and  drifting  snows  of  immeasurable  depth,  and  ice  and 
sleet  storms  of  a  sublime  power  and  magnitude.  Under  this  rugged  nursing 
the  boy  grew  outwardly  vigorous.  When  but  three  or  four  years  old  he  was 
sent  to  the  Widow  Kilbourns  school,  where  he  said  his  letters  twice  a  day, 

571 


BIBLE   HUIH'OIIT   OVER    IN    THE    "MAYFLOWER. 


57^ 


IfEXRY  WARD  H  EEC  HER. 


and  passed  the  rest  of  his  titiK-  in  hemininif  a  brown  towel  or  a  check  apron. 
It  was  not  expected  that  he  would  learn  very  much  from  "  Marm  Kilhourn." 
but  the  school  kept  him  out  of  the  way  of  the  "  home  folks  "  for  the  j^^reater 
part  of  the  day.  Next,  a  small,  unpainted  district  school-house  beinj,'  erected 
within  a  stone's  throw  of  the  parsonage,  he  graduated  from  Ma'am  Kilbourn's 
thither. 

Henry  Ward  was  not  marked  out  by  the  prophecies  of  partial  friends  for 
any  brilliant  future.  His  utterance  was  thick  anil  indistinct,  partly  from  bashful- 
ness  and  partly  from  enlargement  of  the  tonsils  of  his  throat,  so  that  in  speak- 
ing or  reading  he  was  with  difficulty  understood.  The  last  success  that  ever 
would  have  been  predicted  for  him  is  that  of  an  orator.  "  When  Henry  is  scMit 
to  me  with  a  message,"  said  a  good  aunt,  "I  always  have  to  mak(;  him  say  it 

three  times.  The  first  time  I  have  no  manner 
of  an  idea,  more  than  if  he  spoke  Choctaw  ;  the 
second,  I  catch  now  and  then  a  word  ;  by  tl>e 
third  time  I  begin  to  understand." 

Sunday  was  a  day  of  terror  to  Henry,  for 
on  that  day  the  Catechism  was  administered  to 
him.  "I  think,"  said  he  afterward  to  his  con- 
gregation, referring  to  this  part  of  his  life,  "that 
to  force  childhood  to  associate  religion  with 
such  dry  morsels  is  to  violate  the  spirit,  not  only 
of  the  New  Testament,  but  of  common  sense  as 
well.  I  know  one  thing,  that  if  I  am  'lax  and 
latitudinarian,'  the  Sunday  Catechism  is  to 
blame  for  a  part  of  it.  The  dinners  that  I  have 
lost  because  I  could  not  go  through  '  sanctifica- 
tion,'  and  'justification,'  and  'adoption,'  and 
all  such  questions,  lie  heavily  on  my  memory  !  .  .  .  One  Sunday  afternoon 
with  my  Aunt  Esther  did  me  more  good  than  forty  Sundays  in  church  with 
my  father.  He  thundered  over  my  head  ;  she  sweetly  instructed  me  down 
in  my  heart.  The  promise  that  she  would  read  Joseph's  history  to  me  on  Sun- 
day was  enough  to  draw  a  silver  thread  of  obedience  through  the  entire  week  ; 
and  if  I  was  tempted  to  break  my  promise,  I  said,  '  No  ;  Aunt  Esther  is  going 
to  read  on  Sunday  ;'  and  I  would  do.  or  I  would  not  do,  all  through  the  week, 
for  the  sake  of  getting  that  sweet  instruction  on  Sunday." 

When  Henry  was  twelve  years  old  his  father  accepted  a  call  to  Boston  and 
removed  thither  with  his  family.  At  this  time  the  boy  developed  a  great  love 
of  adventure,  and  he  was  filled  with  a  longing  to  be  a  sailor.  This  feeling  made 
him  restless  and  discontented,  and  he  resolved  to  leave  home  and  ship  on  board 
some  vessel  sailing  from  the  harbor.      He  hovered  about  the  wharves,  con- 


Kl.l)    llUTCll    ClUkCH,    NKW    UTKECIIT, 
LONG    ISLAM). 


AT  MT.  PLEASANr  SCHOOL  373 

vcrsinjr  with  the  sailors  and  captains,  and  sometimes  carryinjr  his  little  biindU 
with  him.  Hut  the  thouj^dits  of  home  were  too  stron^j  for  him,  and  he  could 
never  (juite  summon  resolution  (.-nouj^rh  to  run  away,  in  a  fit  of  despi.Tation  he 
wrote  a  letter  io  his  brother,  tellinj.^  him  of  his  wish  to  i;o  to  sea,  and  informinji^ 
him  that  he  meant  to  first  ask  his  father's  pi^rmission,  and  if  that  were  not 
j^rranted  he  would  go  without  it.  This  letter  he  dropped  where  his  father  would 
be  sure  to  find  it.  Dr.  lieecher  soon  discovered  it,  and,  readinjr  it,  put  it  into 
his  pocket  without  comment.  The  next  day  he  asked  the  boy  if  he  had  ever 
thought  of  any,  definite  avocation  for  his  future  life, 

"  V(!s,"  said  Henry,  "I  want  to  go  to  sea.  I  want  to  enter  the  navy,  be  a 
midshipman,  and  rise  to  be  a  commamler." 

"Oh,  I  see,"  said  the  Doctor,  cheerfully  ;  "but  in  order  to  prepare  for  that 
you  must  study  mathematics  and  navigation." 

"  I  am  ready,  sir," 

"  Very  well.  I'll  send  you  up  to  Amherst  next  week,  to  Mount  Pleasant, 
and  then  you'll  begin  your  preparatory  studies  at  once.  As  soon  as  you  are 
well  prepared,  I  presume  I  can  make  interest  to  get  you  an  appointment." 

The  boy  was  delighted,  and  the  next  week  started  for  Amherst.  The 
Doctor  felt  sure  that  the  sailor  scheme  would  never  come  to  anything,  and 
exclaimed,  exultantly,  as  he  bade  his  son  good-bye.  "  I  shall  have  that  boy  in 
the  ministry  yet." 

At  the  Mount  Pleasant  Institute  young  Beechcr  took  lessons  in  elocution 
from  Professor  John  E.  Lovell.  Under  the  instructions  of  this  able  teacher,  he 
learned  to  manage  his  voice,  and  to  overcome  the  thickness  and  indistinctness  of 
utterance  which  previous  to  this  had  troubled  him  so  much.  He  continued  at 
this  school  for  three  years,  devoting  himseir  to  study  with  determination  and 
success,  and  taking  rank  as  one  of  the  most  promising  pupils  of  the  school. 

As  time  passed  on,  the  ardent  desire  for  a  seafaring  life  began  to  weaken. 
The  stories  of  Nelson's  conquests  and  Captain  Cook's  wanderings  lost  some- 
thing of  their  old  fascination.  Life  was  filling  fast  with  larger  meanings.  About 
this  time,  when  in  a  mood  of  spiritual  anxiety,  a  religious  revival  arose,  stirring 
the  deep  undercurrents  of  his  nature.  Henry  Ward  Peecher  resolved  to  be  a 
Christian,  and  set  himself  to  "follow  the  Lord  fully."  His  conversion — if  we 
may  use  that  word  in  this  connection — was  not  the  doleful  giving  up  of  every* 
thing  glad  and  beautiful  to  live  a  life  of  gloom  and  sadness.  It  was  a  joyful 
consecration  to  the  Lord.  If  Mr.  Heecher  could  not  have  been  a  joyful  Chris> 
tian,  he  would  not  have  been  a  Christian  at  all.  All  life  was  glad  to  him 
Existence  alone,  under  the  blue  skies  and  in  the  happy  fields,  was  a  luxury. 
And  he  judged  that  the  Christian  life  ought  to  be  of  all  lives  the  most  joyful. 
True  to  these  convictions,  his  life  was  sunny  where  some  thought  it  should  only 
be  solemn.    Mrs.  Harriet  Beecher  Stowe  writes  of  him  at  this  period  in  her  own 


574 


HENRY  WARD  B  EEC  HER. 


charr.cteristic  manner:  "The  only  tiling,"  she  says,  "which  prevented  Henry 
from  taking  the  first  rank  as  a  relii^ious  yoiinj,'  man  was  the  want  of  that  sobriety 
and  solemnity  which  was  looki-d  upon  as  essential  to  the«Christian  character. 
He  was  like  a  converted  bobolink,  who  should  be  brouj^ht  to  judgment  for  short 
quirks  ami  undignilieil  twitters  and  tweedles  among  the  daisy  heads,  instead  of 
Hying  in  dignified  paternal  swet;ps,  like  a  good  swallow  of  the  sanctuar)',  or 
sitting  in  solemnized  nunlitations  in  the  de[)ths  of  pine  tre*rs.  like  the  owl." 

In   iS^2   Dr.  MeecluT  removed  iVom   Moston  tt»  Cincinnati,  to  enter  upon 
the  presidency  of  Lane  .Seminar/,  to  which  he  had  been  elected.     Henry  fol- 
lowed him  to  the  West  after  his  graduation  at  Amherst,  and,  in  1836,  completed 
his   theological   studies  at   the 
seminary,  under  the  tuition  of 
his  father  ami  Professor  .Stowe, 
the    hitter   of    whom    married 
Henry's  sister  Harriet. 

Immediately  on  finishing 
his  theological  course,  Mr. 
Beecher  married  imd  settled 
in  Lawrenceburg,  Indiana,  ac- 
cepting   the    very    first    offer 


MORAVIAN    EASTfcR    SKRVICE,    UKTilLEI{E.M,    J'EN.NSVLVA>IA. 


made  him.  It  was  work  that  he  wanted,  and  one  place  he  thought  about  as 
good  as  another.  His  parish  was  a  little  town  on  the  Ohio  river,  not  far  from 
Cincinnati.  Here  he  preached  in  a  small  church,  and  did  all  the  work  of  the 
parisli  se.xton,  making  his  fires,  trimming  his  lamps,  sweeping  his  house,  and 
ringing  his  bell.  "I  did  all,"  he  said  whimsically,  "but  come  to  hear  myself 
preach — that  they  had  to  do." 

Mr.  Beecher  was  soon  invited  from  Lawrenceburg  to  Indianapolis,  the  cap- 
ital of  the  State,  where  he  labored  for  eight  years.  A  member  of  his  church  in 
Indianapolis  thus  gives  his  recollections  of  him  : — 

"In  the  early  spring  of  1842  a  revival  began,  more  noticeable  than  any  that 


PLYMOUTH  CHURCH.  575 

this  community  has  seen.  The  whole  town  was  pervaded  by  the  infhi«nces  of 
religion.  For  many  w«.'eks  the  work  coiuimied  with  unabated  power,  anil  nearly 
one  hundred  |>er!>ons  were  adih-d  to  ih(;  church  on  profession  of  their  faith. 
This  was  God's  work.  It  is  not  iinprop<T.  howevj-r,  to  speak  of  the  pastor  in 
that  revival,  as  he  is  remembered  by  some  of  the  conj^'rei^ation.  pluni^'inj,' 
throuj,'h  the  wet  streets,  his  trousers  stuck  in  his  mutldy  lM)ot-lej^fs.  earni'st. 
untirin;,',  swift;  with  a  merry  heart,  a  jrlowinjf  face,  and  a  helpful  woril  for  every 
one  ;  the  whole  day  preaching  Christ  to  the  people  where  h«-  could  find  them, 
and  at  night  preaching  still  when!  the  people  were  sun-  to  frntl  him.  .Som«-  of 
those  who  have  been  pillars  since  found  the;  Saviour  in  that  memorable  time. 
Nor  was  the  awakening  succeeded  by  an  inuniiliate-  rela|)se. 

•'  Early  in  the  following  year,  at  the  March  ami  April  communions,  the 
church  had  larger  accessions.  There  was,  indeed,  a  wholesome  and  nearly 
continuous  growth  up  to  th(;  time  wh(.'n  x\\v.  first  pastor  resigned,  to  accept  a  call 
to  the  IMymouth  Congregational  Church,  in  lirooklyn.  New  York.  This  occurred 
August  24,  1847." 

HIS    WORK    .\T    I'l.VMOUTH    CHURCH. 

On  his  removal  to  Brooklyn,  Mr.  Peecher  immciliately  announced  in  Ply- 
mouth pulpit  the  same  principles  that  he  had  followed  in  Indianapolis  ;  namely, 
his  determination  to  preach  Christ  among  them,  not  as  a  bygone  historical  per- 
sonage, but  as  the  living  Lord  and  God,  and  to  bring  all  the  ways  and  usages  of 
society  to  the  test  of  his  standards.  He  announced  that  h<:  considered  tem- 
perance and  anti-slavery  a  part  of  the  gospel  of  Christ,  and  should  preach  them 
accordingly. 

In  the  ten  years  of  agitation  preceding  the  civil  war,  Plymouth  Church  rose 
grandly  to  the  need  of  the  age.  When  Wendell  Phillips  found  no  place  for 
free  speech  in  New  York  or  Brooklyn.  Mr.  Beecher  invited  him  to  the  platform 
of  his  church,  and  counted  the  words  of  the  great  abolitionist  no  desecration  ; 
for  did  not  the  Son  of  Man  come  to  preach  the  gospel  to  the  poor,  and  to  set 
the  captives  free  ?  From  the  hour  that  Wendell  Phillips  made  his  great  anti- 
slavery  speech  in  Plymouth  Church,  until  the  Emancipation  Proclamation,  nearly 
twenty  years  after,  the  Plymouth  preacher  became  a  flaming  advocate  for  liberty 
of  speech  and  action  on  the  question  of  the  national  evil.  If  there  was  any- 
thing on  earth  to  which  he  was  sensitive,  up  to  the  day  of  his  death,  it  was  any 
form  of  denial  to  liberty,  either  in  literature,  politics,  or  religion. 

A  touching  incident  occurred  early  in  the  year  of  1861,  which  helped  to 
increase  Mr.  Beecher's  reputation  as  the  friend  of  the  slave . — 

A  beautiful  octoroon  girl,  raised  and  owned  by  a  prominent  citizen  of  this 
countr\',  Mr.  John  Churchman,  attempted  to  make  her  escape  North.  She  was 
arrested  and  brought  back.  Her  master  then  determined  to  seM  her,  and  found 
a  ready  purchaser  in  another  citizen,  Mr.  Fred  Scheffer.     Mr.  Scheffer  proposed 


576 


J/EXRY  WARD  BEECUER. 


to  Sarah  that  she  should  i;o  North,  and  raise  enough  money  from  the  AboHtion- 
ists  to  purchase  herself.  This  proposition  she  eaiLi^erly  accepted,  and.  beinLj 
furnished  with  mc:ans  \,)-  Mrs.  ScheHer  to  pay  her  fare,  she  started.  A  few  days 
after  her  arrival  in  New  York  she  was  taken  to  Mr.  Heecher,  and  on  the  follow- 
ini^*-  Sabbath  eveninL,^  was  escorted  to  his  pulpit  in  Brooklyn.  She  was  a  woman 
of  commandiny^  [jresence,  winninij^  face,  and  long',  jet-black  hair,  and.  of  course, 
attracted  most  ea^^er  attention  and  interest  from  the  large  and  wealthy  congrega- 
tion assembled.  She  was  recpiested  to  loosen  her  hair,  and  as  she  did  so  it  fell 
in  glistening  waves  ov(;r  her  shoulders  and  below  her  waist.  Robed  in  white, 
her  face  crimsonetl  and  her  form  heaving  under  the  excitement  of  the  occasion, 
she  stood  in  that  august  presence  a  very  X'enus  in  form  and  feature.  For  a 
moment  Mr.  Heecher  remained  by  her  side  without  uttering  a  word,  until  the 
audience  was  wrought  up  to  a  high  pitch  of  curiosity  and  excitement.  Then,  in 
his  impressive  way,  he  related  her  story  and  her  mission.     Before  he  concluded 

his  pathetic  recital  the  vast  audience  was  a  sea 
of  commotion  ;  and  as  the  pastor  announced 
that  he  wanted  ;^2000  for  the  girl  before  him  to 
redeem  her  promise  to  pay  for  freedom,  costly 
jewels  and  trinkets  and  notes  and  specie  piled 
in  so  fast  that  in  less  time  than  it  takes  to  write 
it,  enough  and  more  was  contributed  than  was 
necessary  to  meet  the  call  that  had  been  made. 

In  i860  the  crisis  of  the  nation  was  seen 
to  be  at  hand,  and  Plymouth's  patriot  preacher 
girded  himself  for  the  fight.  With  pen  and  voice 
he  labored  for  the  success  of  Abraham  Lincoln 
in  the  campaign  of  i860,  urging  the  preserva- 
tion of  the  Union.  When,  on  April  12,  1861,  the  first  shot  was  fired  at  Fort 
Sumter,  Mr.  Heecher  sprang  to  the  aid  of  his  country.  F>om  Plymouth  pulpit 
came  ringing  words  of  patriotism,  cheering  the  timid,  encouraging  the  down- 
cast, denouncing  traitors,  but  hoi)eful  of  the  future,  pointing  out  clearly  the;  path 
of  right  and  duty  for  those  who  loved  their  country.  His  church,  prompt  to 
answer,  raised  and  ecpiipped  a  regiment,  the  Thirst  Long  Island,  in  w-hich  his 
eldest  son  was  an  officer.  Before  this  regiment  went  into  active  service,  Mr. 
Beecher  often  visited  the  camp  and  preached  to  the  young  soldiers,  many  being 
"  my  own  boys,"  as  he  used  to  call  them. 

Meanwhile,  besitles  the  cares  of  his  pastorate,  he  was  constantly  delivering 
speeches.  At  last  his  health  began  to  fail.  His  voice  gave  way,  and  he  was 
imperatively  commanded  to  seek  rest.  To  recruit  his  exhausted  energies  he 
sailed  for  Europe,  little  thinking  that  a  work  awaited  him  in  England  far  more 
arduous  than  anything  which  he  had  yet  undertaken. 


RF.v.   riir.on.-iRK  i,.   rfvi.KR. 


SPEAKIiYG  AGAIXST  EXGLISII  MOBS. 


S77 


On  his  outward  voyage  Mr.  Beecher  was  uri^rcd  to  speak  in  lui^land  for 
the  Union  cause,  but  dechned  on  the  i^rnnuul  of  his  health.  After  sonu;  weeks 
of  travel  in  I'Vance  and  Switzerland,  he  was  met  at  Paris  with  the  news  of 
Cettysburj^  and  Vicksburi^,  antl  also  with  letters  from  frientls  in  Mni;land  sayiuLj 
that  a  small  party  there  was  supportinii,r  the  side  of  the  North  against  hea\y  odds, 
and  again  urging  him  to  help  them  with  his  voice.  At  last  he  consented,  and 
engagements  were  made  for  him  to  speak  in  the  chief  cities  of  England. 

In  order  to  fully  comprehend  the  situation,  it  is  necessary  to  recall  the  state 
of  feeling  in   Enidand  at  that   time.     Oliver  Wendell  Holmes  wrote  after  Mr 


COLONIAL    MilNASTKRV,    1 1  I  IN  IR  ATINc:    KAKMKR    DAYS. 


Beecher's  return  :  "  The  devil  hail  got  the  start  of  i\\v.  clergyman,  as  he  very 
often  does,  afttT  all.  The  wretches  who  had  been  for  three  years  pouring  their 
leprous  distillment  into  the  ears  of  Great  Britain  had  preoccuj)ied  the  ground 
and  were  determined  to  silence  the  minister  if  they  could.  I'or  this  purpose 
they  looked  to  the  heathen  populace  of  the  nominally  Christian  British  cities. 
They  covered  the  walls  with  blood-red  placards,  they  stimulated  the  mob  by 
intlammatory  appeals,  they  tilled  the  air  with  threats  (jf  riot  and  murder.  It 
was  in  the  midst  of  scenes  like  these  that  the  single,  solitary  American  opened 
his  lips  to  speak  in  behalf  of  his  country." 


578  HENRY  WARD  BEECHER. 

But  Mr.  Beecher  braved  the  British  Hon  in  his  most  angry  mood.  His  great 
speeches  in  Manchester,  Glasgow,  Edinburgh,  Liverpool,  and  London  were 
magnificent  as  specimens  of  natural  oratory,  but  they  were  sublime  and  heroic 
as  the  utterances  of  one  who  loved  his  country,  who  believed  his  country  to  be 
in  the  right,  and  dared  to  say  so  in  the  face  of  all  the  world. 

Mr.  Beecher  had  a  firmly  knit,  vigorous  physical  frame,  come  down  from 
generations  of  yeomen  renowned  for  strength,  and  it  stood  him  in  good  service 
now.  In  giving  an  account  afterward  he  said:  "I  had  to  speak  extempore  on 
subjects  the  most  delicate  and  difficult  as  between  our  two  nations,  where  even 
the  shading  of  my  words  was  of  importance,  and  yet  I  had  to  outscream  a  mob 
and  drown  the  roar  of  a  multitude.  It  was  like  driving  a  team  of  runaway 
horses  and  making  love  to  a  lady  at  the  same  time." 

The  printed  record  of  this  speech,  as  it  came  from  England,  has  constant 
parentheses  of  wild  uproars,  hootings,  howls,  cat-calls,  clamorous  denials  and 
interruptions  ;  but  by  cheerfulness,  perfect,  fearless  good-humor,  intense  perse- 
verance, and  a  powerful  voice,  Mr.  Beecher  said  all  he  had  to  say,  in  spite  of  the 
uproar. 

The  following  description  of  the  great  meeting  in  London  is  from  the  pen 
of  a  gentleman  who  was  present : — 

It  was  my  privilege  to  hear  him  when  he  addressed  an  audience  of  Englishmen  in  Exeter  Hall, 
London,  on  the  then  all-absorbing  topic  of  the  American  war.  Never  shall  I  forget  the  scene. 
The  masses  of  the  English  people  had  already  taken  sides  in  favor  of  the  Southern  Confederacy, 
and  only  a  few,  such,  for  instance,  as  Rev.  Newman  Hall,  Baptist  Nod,  Francis  Newman,  and  a 
few  other  nonconformist  clergymen  of  the  same  stamp,  had  the  courage  to  defend  the  North,  and 
this  at  the  hazard  of  mob  violence,  when  Mr.  Beecher  suddenly  appeared,  and,  fighting  his  way  from 
Manchester  to  London,  dared  to  face  the  howling  mobs  who  assailed  him,  and  by  his  indomitable 
courage  succeeded  in  gaining  at  least  a  respectful  hearing,  which  at  Exeter  Hall  culminated  in  ?. 
grand  triumph  for  liberty  and  justice.  On  that  occasion  his  grand  eloquence  carried  his  audience 
until  burst  after  burst  of  deafening  cheers  greeted  every  period;  and  the  scene  at  the  close  of  his 
address  can  never  be  fully  realized,  except  by  those  who  were  eye-witnesses  of  this  grand  event.  To 
him  alone  should  be  attributed  the  credit  of  having  turned  the  tide  of  English  opinion,  and  of 
having  succeeded  in  laying  the  foundation  of  that  better  judgment  which  prevented  the  govern- 
ment from  officially  recognizing  the  Confederacy." 

Soon  after  his  return  the  war  closed,  and  he  went  to  Charleston  to  deliver 
the  address  at  Fort  Sumter  upon  the  occasion  of  the  rehoisting  of  the  flag  of 
the  United  States  over  that  work.  The  news  of  the  assassination  of  Mr.  Lin- 
coln met  him  upon  his  return  to  Brooklyn,  and  drew  from  him  one  of  his  most 
memorable  sermons.  At  the  close  of  hostilities,  he  preached  a  sermon  to  his 
congregation,  urging  forgiveness  and  conciliation  toward  the  South  as  the  policy 
of  the  hour,  saying  truly  that  that  crisis  was  a  rare  opportunity,  which  would 
never  come  again  if  spurned.  The  sermon  was  unpopular,  and  caused  him  some 
trouble  even  in  his  own  congregation. 


THE  GREAT  TRIAL.  579 

During  the  years  after  the  war  Mr.  Beecher  was  busy  with  voice  and  pen, 
in  the  pulpit,  on  the  lecture  platform,  and  in  the  press.  His  reputation  and  in- 
fluence as  a  preacher  were  immense  ;  and  Plymouth  Church  became  the  centre 
of  what  may  properly  be  called  a  permanent  revival  of  religion.  Suddenly,  in 
the  midst  of  this  busy,  happy,  and  useful  life,  came  the  great  trouble  known  as 
the  Beecher-Tilton  scandal,  which,  though  bravely  met  and  finally  conquered, 
cast  such  a  dreadful  shadow  over  Mr.  Beecher's  life. 

THE    liKECIIKK-TILTON    TRIAL. 

"  This  most  distressing  episode  in  Mr.  Beecher's  life,"  says  an  account  which 
appeared  at  the  time  of  his  death,  "occurred  when  his  fame  and  influence  were 
at  their  zenith.  At  a  time  when  the  most  cultured  classes  of  the  country  ac- 
cepted him  as  their  guide,  when  the  first  place  as  a  preacher  and  an  orator  was 
accorded  to  him  on  all  hands,  and  when  his  writings  were  eagerly  read  from  one 
end  of  the  land  to  the  other,  a  formidable  assault  was  made  upon  his  reputa- 
tion. At  first  vague  hints  were  circulated  reflecting  upon  him  ;  then  a  direct 
charge  appeared  in  print ;  finally,  in  an  action  at  law,  brought  by  Theodore 
Tilton  against  Mr.  Beecher,  with  a  claim  for  jfi  100,000  damages,  the  whole  case 
was  disclosed,  and  for  six  months  the  morbid  appetites  of  the  sensual  and  the 
malice  of  scoffers  at  Christianity  were  gratified  by  the  terrible  accusation  against 
the  pastor  of  Plymouth  Church. 

"  Three  times  did  Mr.  Beecher  meet  his  accusers,  and  three  times  the 
charge  was  investigated.  First  it  was  heard  by  a  committee  of  the  church,  ap- 
pointed at  Mr.  Beecher's  request,  and  the  committee  pronounced  the  pastor 
innocent.  Afterward  it  was  tried  in  court,  when  the  jury  disagreed  ;  and 
thirdly,  by  a  council  of  Congregational  ministers.  Undoubttc'ly  the  scandal  was  a 
cause  of  reproach  not  only  to  Mr.  Beecher,  but  to  religion.  That  it  would  be  so 
if  it  were  made  public,  whatever  the  issue  might  be,  Mr.  Beecher  and  his  friends 
had  foreseen  from  the  first,  and,  unhappily,  in  attempting  to  prevent  its  coming 
to  trial,  they  prejudiced  the  case  ;  their  efforts  to  keep  it  from  the  public  were 
regarded  as  an  admission  of  guilt.  It  was  a  noteworthy  fact  that  Theodore 
Tilton,  who  brought  the  charge,  was  a  protege  of  Mr.  Beecher's,  a  man  pos- 
sessing undoubted  talent,  a  sphere  for  the  exercise  of  which  had  been  provided 
by  Mr.  Beecher." 

The  unwavering  fidelity  of  Plymouth  Church  to  its  pastor  during  this  fierce 
ordeal,  the  love  and  sympathy  of  his  wife,  and  the  unfaltering  allegiance  of  a 
host  of  friends  in  this  country  and  in  Europe,  encouraged  and  supported  him, 
and  enabled  him  to  continue  his  pastorate  and  public  work.  But  the  damage 
to  the  cause  of  religion  was  incalculable  ;  and  nothing  but  the  cheerful  and 
steadfast  faith  which  had  become  a  part  of  his  being  could  have  enabled  him  to 
recover  from  this  awful  trial. 


58o  HENRY  WARD  BElECHER. 

F"rom  among  the  latest  utterances  of  Mr.  Beecher  in  Plymouth  Church,  we 
take  the  following  paragraph,  which  gives  the  impression  that  he  was  half 
aware  that  his  end  wa-.:  not  far  off: — 

"  I  look  back  now  upon  nearly  forty  years'  ministry  here,  and  see  what  the 
fruit  has  been.  It  has  not  been  as  large  and  as  good  as  it  would  have  been  if 
you  had  had  a  better  fruiterer.  Hut  I  am  not  unwilling  to  compare  with  others 
the  inen  and  women  that  have  grown  up  under  my  preaching,  their  develop- 
ment in  nobleness,  their  cheer,  their  hopefulness,  their  courage,  their  kindness, 
their  lovableness,  and  their  self-denial,  which  ceases  to  be  self-denial  because 
they  learn  to  love  working  for  others.  I  think  I  am  not  apt  to  be  proud,  but  I 
may  thank  God  that  I  have  the  test  before  me  in  hundreds  and  in  thousands 
that  the  word  preached  by  me  has  been  blessed,  not  simply  to  the  hope  of  their 
final  salvation,  but  to  their  present  evolution  into  higher,  statelier,  more  beauti- 
ful, attractive,  winning  souls. 

"  1  have  never  preached  what  I  did  not  believe  ;  I  have  never  asked  m)^elf 
whether  to  preach  a  truth  that  I  did  believe  would  be  popular  or  unpopular.  I 
have  never  been  afraid  of  man,  though  I  have  been  afraid  of  God  as  the  child 
is  afraid  of  a  father  that  he  loves.  The  whole  conception  of  life  that  I  have  had 
has  been  to  serve  my  fellow-man,  and  when,  in  the  day  that  men  despised  the 
poor  oppressed  negroes,  that  could  not  plead  their  own  cause,  I  was  more  than 
willing,  I  was  inexpressibly  grateful,  to  be  permitted  to  stand  for  them,  and  not 
to  forsake  them  until  they  were  clothed  in  the  majesty  of  equal  rights  by  the 
great  revolution.  I  attempted  all  my  life  long  to  take  the  part  of  those  who 
had  no  defender  ;  and  I  have  done  it.  And  in  all  matters  in  my  own  church  I 
have  steadily  sought  one  thing — to  reproduce,  so  far  as  I  was  able  to  reproduce, 
the  lineaments  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  in  your  hearts." 

HIS    LAST    n.WS. 

The  dawn  of  the  year  1887  found  Mr.  Beecher  in  the  enjoyment  of  good 
health,  and  full  of  plans  of  work.  He  had  addressed  himself  with  new  energy 
to  the  second  part  of  his  "Life  of  Jesus,  the  Christ,"  and  was  also  engaged  on 
his  autobiography,  which  would  have  been  of  unspeakable  value.  But  his  sun 
was  setting,  though  he  knew  it  not.  The  golden  bowl  was  soon  to  be  shattered, 
the  pitcher  broken  at  the  fountain,  and  the  wheel  at  the  cistern.  The  voice  that 
had  swayed  tens  of  thousands,  and  inlluenced  the  history  of  the  nation  through 
two  generations,  was  to  be  hushed  in  pathetic  silence. 

He  hatl  often  expressed  the  hope  that  he  might  be  spared  the  agonies  of  a 
lingering  illness.  His  hope  was  fully  realized.  On  the  evening  of  March  3, 
1887,  he  retired  to  bed,  and  after  an  hour  or  two  of  restlessness,  he  fell  into 
that  dreamless  sleep  that  knows  no  waking.  He  continued  in  this  unconscious 
state  till  the  morning  of  Tuesday,  March  Sth,  when,  with  his  family  gathered 


77//:  LAST  TRIIWTE. 


581 


around  him,  he  passed  away.  A  ray  of  sunlight,  full  and  stron_L,^  (lashed  into 
the  chamber  just  as  his  last  br(;ath  was  drawn.  Calmly,  and  witli  no  struj^^i^de, 
the  regular  breathin<jf  ceased,  antl  the  great  preacher  was  gone.  The  face, 
though  worn,  looked  peaceful  and  noble.  The  blue  eyes  which  had  looked  for 
the  last  time  on  earthly  scenes  were  closed,  and  the  elocp.ient  tongue  was  silent, 
forever. 

There  was  nothing  of  gloom  in  the  last  trilnite  to  the  nation's  foremost 
citizen.  All  day  long,  through  the  aisles  which  led  to  his  coffin,  i)assed  the 
ceaseless  stream,  never  pausing  ;  yet  night  fell,  and  found  many  thousands  still 
ungratitied.     Churches  were   thronged   to   hear   his  praises  and  thank  God  for 


PAssovKR  surrF.R,  as  ousf.rvko  nv  the  jfws  in  nkw  york  in  1892. 


such  a  man,  yet  not  a  tithe  of  those  eager  to  do  him  reverence  could  find  a  foot- 
hold ;  the  streets  about  his  resting-place  teemed  all  day  with  hundreds  awaiting 
their  turn  ;  no  building  in  the  world  could  have  contained  the  myriads  gathered 
to  do  honor  to  his  name. 

One  who  knew  him  and  loved  him  well  writes  thus  of  that  funeral  scene  : 
"  He  loved  the  multitude,  and  the  multitude  came  to  his  funeral  ;  he  loved  the 
flowers,  and  ten  thousand  buds  brc;athed  their  fragrance  and  clad  his  resting- 
place  in  beauty  ;  he  loved  music,  and  the  voice  of  /.he  organ  ros(?,  and  the  anthems 
which  had  delighted  him  again  rolled  their  harmonies  to  thr'  rafters  ;  he  loved 
the  sunshine,  and  it  streamed  through  the  windows  and  was  a  halo  around  him. 


5^2  HENRY  WARD  BEECHER. 

No  emblem  of  sorrow  or  parting  was  there,  but  the  symbols  of  love  and  faith 
and  hope  the  g.ad  tokens  of  resurrection,  immortality,  and  eternal  reward,  such 
as  befitted  his  life,  his  death,  and  his  fame,  which  shall  endure,  for  many  gener- 
ations  shall  approve  him  and  bless  him." 

'•  What  biographer  shall  statue  this  incomparable  man  ?     Almost  any  one 
may  feel  that  his  forehead  does  not  touch  the  feet  of  the  noble  figure  •  but  it  is 
from  below  that  we  appreciate  impressive  objects.     Defects  of  teaching  and 
defects  of  character  will  be  recorded.     Men  without  faults  are  apt  to  be  men 
without  force.     The  faults  of  great  and  generous  natures  are  often  the  shadows 
which  their  virtues  cast.     But  there  is  noble  praise  for  him  which  far  outweighs 
the  deficiencies.     In  the  life-long  warfare  that  he  waged  against  the  slavery  of 
moral  evil,  and  in  behalf  of  intellectual,  religious,  and  political  liberty,  he  wielded 
the  weapon  of  oratory  with  the  splendid  excellence  of  insight,  sincerity   sym- 
pathy, simplicity,  and  strength.     « Lay  on  his  coffin  a  sword  ;  for  he  was  a  brave 
brilliant,  and  effective  soldier  in  the  war  for  the  liberation  of  humanity  '  " 


LEADERS  OF  RELIGIOUS  AND  SOCIAL  REFORM. 


liV  ALLEN  C.  THOMAS,  A.  M. 

Professor  of  History,  Haver/ord  College. 


Every  generation  has  its  men  and  women  who,  moved  by  circumstances, 
or  roused  by  evils  around  them,  boldly  grapple  with  the  conditions  which 
confront  them.  Often  this  has  to  be  begun  alone  ;  afterwards  they  are  sup- 
ported by  those  who  have  either  been  ignorant  of  the  evils  existing,  or  have 
been  too  timid  to  enter  upon  the  work  themselves.  We  here  sketch  briefly  a 
few  representative  men  of  this  class  not  elsewhere  noticed  in  this  volume. 


LYMAN    ABBOTT. 

PASTOR  OF  PLYMOUTH  CHURCH. 

WiiiK  sympathies  and  broad  Christian  charity  are  potent  factors  in   the 
uplifting  of  men,  and  there  have  been  many  in  America  who  have  exhibited 
these   characteristics,    but   few   possess   them   to   a  greater   degree  than   the 
present  pastor  of  the  Plymouth  Church,  Brooklyn,  Lyman  Abbott.     He  comes 
of  good  New  England  stock,  and  was  born  December  i8,  1835,  at  Roxbury, 
Massachusetts.     He  is  the  third  son  of  Jacob  Abbott,  so  dear  to  the  children 
of  the  past  generation,  as  the  author  of  those  books  which  were  the  deli^dit 
of  the  childhood  of  many  still  living— the  "  Rollo  Books,"  the  "Jonas   Books," 
and  the  "Lucy  Books."       The  plain,  practical,  broad  common  sense  in  Jacob 
Abbott,   which  dictated   the  composition  of  these   attractive  realistic  stories, 
has    been    inherited    in   large    measure   by   his   son.      Lyman   Abbott    was 
graduated   from   the    University   of  the    City   of  New   York,    in    1853,    then 
studied  law  and  was  admitted  to  the  bar.     He  soon  found  that  the  ministry 
had  greater  attraction  for  him  than  the  law,  and  after  studying  theology  with 
his  uncle  John  S.  C.  Abbott,  so  well-known  as  the   author  of  the  "Life  of 
Napoleon  Bonaparte,"  he  was  ordained  in  i860,  a  minister  of  the  Congrega- 
tional Church.     He  went  the  same  year  to  take  charge  of  a  congregation  at 
Terre  Haute,  Indiana.     After  five   years'  work  he   became   discouraged,  for 
there   seemed   to   be   little   or   no   fruit   from   his   labors.     He   came   to   the 

S83 


5 '^4 


LYMAN  ABBOTT. 


concliisior.  that,  after  all,  he  had  mistak(Mi  his  calli^,i,^  and  s(i  in  1865  he 
acc(;i)ted  the  position  of  Secretary  to  the  American  I'Veednian's  Commission, 
an  office  which  took  him  to  New  \'ork.  Retiirnini,^  to  Terre  Haute  o\\  a  visit, 
he  saw  that  his  previous  labors  had  not  been  in  vain,  but  had  brouj^dit  forth 
abun''ant  fruit  in  the  lives  of  former  members  of  his  coni,fre_i,fation.  It  was 
perhaps  this  fact  that  induced  him  to  reenter  the  ministry,  and  for  three  years 
to   be   the   pastor  of  the  New  lingland  Church  in   New  York.     He  did  not, 

however,  lay  aside  the  liter- 
ary work  he  had  taken  up 
while  connected  with  the 
Freetlman's  Association, 
He  conducted  the  "Literary 
Record"  in  /larper's 
Mo)illil\\  and  became  editor 
of  the  Illustrated  Christian 
Jl'irli-ly  in  1S71.  Resit,niinor 
his  connection  with  other 
papers  he  became  joint 
editor  with  Henry  Ward 
Beechcr  of  the  Christian 
Union  in  1S76,  antl  its  chief 
editor  in  1S81.  After  some 
years  th(;  name  of  the  paper 
was  chani:,fetl  to  T/u-  Outlook, 
as  indicatinjjf  more  nearly  the 
character  of  the  journal.  In 
October,  18S7,  after  the 
death  of  Henry  Ward 
Heecher.  he  was  chosen 
t(Miiporary  Pastor  of  the 
Plymouth  Church  in  Prook- 
i.YMAN  AonoTT.  lyn.    and    later    he    was    in- 

vited to  remain  permanently 
at  the  head  of  that  larg^e  congrej:jation.  He  has  written  much,  and  has 
published  a  number  of  volumes,  nearly  all  upon  religious  subjects,  but  his 
inlluence  has  been  chielly  exerted  through  the  pulpit,  and  especially  through 
the  columns  of  the  Christian  L  'nion  and  The  Outlook,  one  of  the  most  ably 
conducted  weeklies  in  the  country.  Popular  in  its  presentation,  trenchant  in 
its  comments  upon  contemporary  men  and  events,  clear  and  unmistakable  in 
its  position,  few  papers  have  a  more  decided  influence  upon  their  readers.  Its 
tone  is  high,  and  its  view  of  what  is  going  on  in  the  world  is  wide  and  compre- 


% 

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life 

1 

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^  ■<^f^^^l^^.,f^^^ 

H^^'i-'- 

w 

^:^'^y:^4r 

■■  w 

■'■'\^-- 

THOMAS  DeWITT  TALMAGE.  5S5 

hensive.  All  subjects  are  treated  fearlessly  aiui  independently,  and  truth, 
purity,  and  earnestness  in  relit^non  and  politics  are  insi.  ted  upon.  Not  the 
least  interesting  columns  of  the  paper  are  those  devoted  to  "  Notes  and 
Queries,"  where,  in  a  few  well-chosen  words,  the  difficulties  of  corri'spomlents 
are  answered,  and  at  the  same  time  valuable  lessons  are  enforced.  Lyman 
Abbott  is  one  of  the  leaders  of  liberal  Christian  thought,  is  sympathetic  with 
every  movement  for  the  advancement  of  mankind,  a  strong  believer  in  practic.il 
Christianity,  and  a  hater  of  all  kinds  of  cant. 

As  a  speaker  differing  widely  from  his  great  pntdecessor  in  the  Plymouth 
puljjit,  Lyman  Abbott's  success  is  due  to  the  clearness  with  which  he  presents 
his  subject,  to  his  earnestness,  and  to  his  practical  way  of  putting  things. 


THOMAS   DEWITT   TALMAGE. 

POPULAR  PULPiT  ORATOR. 

TnoM.\s  DkWitt  T.m.mack,  another  noted  Brooklyn  preacher,  lecturer 
and  editor,  is  a  great  contrast  to  Lyman  Abbott ;  indeed,  two  men  can  hartlly 
be  more  different.  The  one  appeals  to  calm  intelligence,  reason  and  common 
sense,  while  the  other  appeals  to  the  imagination  and  to  the  feelings.  The  one 
is  a  quiet,  self-possessed  speaker,  the  other  an  impassioned,  almost  dramatic 
orator.  Born  at  Bound  Brook,  New  Jersey,  January  7,  1832,  Thomas  De  Witt 
Talmage  is  the  youngest  of  twelve  children.  He  was  prepared  for  collegt;  in 
the  schools  of  New  Brunswick,  New  Jersey,  and  at  nineteen  entered  the  Uni- 
versity of  the  city  of  New  York  and  was  graduated  in  the  same  class  as  Lyman 
Abbott.  Like  him  also  he  began  the  study  of  law,  but  after  three  years  decided 
that  the  ministry  was  his  proper  field  for  work.  The  fact  that  two  of  his  uncles, 
one  brother-in-law  and  three  brothers  were  ministers,  did  not  deter  him.  Me 
entered  the  Theological  Seminary  of  the  Dutch  Reformed  Church  at  New 
Brunswick,  and  in  due  time  was  ordained.  Ht  accepted  a  call  to  Belleville, 
New  Jersey,  and  afterwards  was  settled  at  .Syracuse,  New  York  ;  from  which 
place  he  went  to  Philadelphia,  where  he  remained  from  1862  to  1869.  In  the 
latter  year  he  received  three  calls,  one  from  Chicago,  one  from  San  Prancisco, 
and  one  from  Brooklyn  from  the  Central  Presbyterian  Church  ;  the  last  he  de- 
cided to  accept  and  went  to  the  new  field  in  March,  1 869.  Though  the  congre- 
gation was  an  exceedingly  small  one,  he  was  offered  a  good  salar)-,  with  an  ex- 
cellent opening  for  work.  The  attendance  increased  from  the  very  beginning, 
and  in  less  than  two  years,  a  new  building  being  a  necessity,  he  persuaded  the 
trustees  to  build  a  Tabernacle,  offering  to  give  up  his  salary  until  it  was  finished. 
34 


586 


rilOMAS  DeWITT  talmage. 


This  Tabernacle  was  destroyed  by  lire  in  December.  1872,  but  was  rebuilt  on  a 
lar^'-er  scale  in  1S74.  The  new  Tabernacle  seated  4650,  and  was  the  largest 
Trotestant  place  of  worship  in  America.  Congrt^gational  singing  was  a  marked 
feature  in  the  church,  and  from  the  great  size  of  the  congregation  it  was  a  very 
impressive  part  of  the  service.  In  1S89  this  Tabernacle  was  destroyed  by  fire : 
another  was  constructed,  but  in  1S94  this  was  also  burnt  down. 

While  living  in  Philatlelphia  he  began  to  give  public  lectures,  and  soon  be- 
came one  of  the  most  popular 
lectuHirs  on  the  platform. 
He  has  lectured  extensively 
throughout  the  United 
States,  always  commanding 
large  audiences.  He  has 
been  a  prolitic  author,  and 
his  works  have  had  a  very 
wide  circulation,  his  'T'roin 
the  Manger  to  the  Throne," 
a  life  of  Christ,  as  much  so 
as  any  of  his  books,  except, 
perhaps,  his  "  Sports  that 
Kill."  But  no  small  part 
of  his  inlluence  and  popu- 
larity has  been  won  through 
the  columns  of  newspapers 
and  periodicals.  He  was 
for  several  years  editor  of 
Tlie  Christian  at  Work,  also 
of  The  Advance,  and  of 
Frank  Leslie  s  Sunday 
Mas^azine,  and  is  now  the 
editor  of  the  Christian  Her- 
ald, a  religious  weekly  of 
large  circulation.  Through 
fhis  sermons,  which,  by  means  of  a  syndicate  are  published  every  week  simultane- 
ously in  about  six  hundred  newspapers,  he  reaches  perhaps  the  largest  audience 
of  any  living  American  preacher.  His  lively  style  and  graphic  language  attract 
many  readers  for  whom  the  average  sermon  has  litt'e  or  no  interest. 

In  all  his  writings  he  is  vivid  in  his  description,  dramatic  in  his  rendering, 
and  popular  in  his  manner  of  presentation.  He  is  undoubtedly  the  best  known 
preacher  in  the  country.  Dr.  Talmage  recently  accepted  a  call  to  Washington, 
but  still  continues  the  editorship  of    the  Christian  Herald. 


^. 

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^^^jgH 

Mp^^ 

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J2^^ '^^ 

A^^^ 

> 

TllnMAS    nr,  WITT    TAIMAllE. 


RUSShLL   II.    CONWELL 


5«7 


RUSSELL    H.    CONWELL. 


PASTOR  OF  THE  LARGEST  CONGREGATION  IN  AMERICA. 


RUSSKI.I.  II.  CiiNWll.l , 
like  Lyman  Abbott  aiul  1  )r. 
'raliiia_L;c,  is  a  very  popular 
Uctiircr  and  preacher,  as  well 
as  the  pastor  of  a  larj^c;  coii- 
jrrcgation,  now  perhaps  the 
largest  in  the  United  States. 
Born  February  15,  1S43,  at 
South  \VorthinL,fton,  Hamp- 
shire County,  Massachus- 
etts, he  was  brou_<,dit  up  as 
a  real  New  Eni^land  country 
boy,  workins;-  on  the  farm, 
doinsi^  the  chort's,  and  attend- 
in*;-  an  old  fashioned  district 
school.  At  sixteen  he  went 
to  Wilbraham  Academy,  and 
in  1 86 1,  with  a  brother,  he 
entered  Yale  College.  But 
it  was  the  time  of  the  civil 
war,  and  inspired  with  jiatri- 
otic  fervor  he  left  college 
and  in  1862  enlisted  in  the 
Massachusetts  46th  regi- 
ment,   was    made    Captain, 

and  later  a  staff  officer  in  the  Artillery.  He  was  severely  wounded  while  in 
Sherman's  army,  and  before  he  fully  recovered,  the  war  had  come  to  an  end.  He 
studied  law,  and  in  1865  married  and  removed  to  Minnea|)olis,  where  he  took 
up  journalism,  and  established  one  or  two  newspapers.  His  health  failing  he 
gave  up  business,  accepting  the  position  of  Emigration  Commissioner  for  the 
State  of  Minnesota,  and  went  to  Germany,  but  soon  resigned  his  position  and 
attended  lectures  for  a  time  at  Leipsic.  In  1870  he  made  the  tour  of  the  world 
as  special  correspondent  of  the  New  York  Tribune,  and  the  Boston  Traveller. 
As  a  result  of  personal  knowledge  gained  at  Hong  Kong,  he  published  his 
first  book,  "Why  and  How  the  Chinese  Emigrate."  Returning  to  America 
he  opened  an  office  for  practicing  law  in  Boston  and  met  with  success.  He 
lost  most  of  his  property  during  the  financial  crisis  of  1873  and  1874,  and  began 


Rl'SSl.I.l.    II.    CONWI.I.I.. 


588  RUSSELL  H.    CONMiLL. 

afresh.  His  n.ind  had  frcciucntly  tiiniccl  to  th( oloj^ical  subj<-cts.  htadinj,'  him  to 
read  much  on  rehj^Mous  topics.  l''eelinj,r  that  hi;  was  called  to  the  ministry,  he 
bej^an  by  speakin},^  to  the  sailors  on  the  wharves,  by  entering;  into  various  kinds 
of  mission  work,  and  by  takinj^f  a  liible  class  at  Tremont  Temple,  which,  be^nn- 
ninjj;  with  four  scholars,  in  a  few  months  numl)eretl  six  hundred.  He  hesitated 
some  time  before  ttnterinfj  upon  tnc  work  of  the  ministry,  but  it  was  not  lonij 
before  an  opcninj,'  prescMitt-d  itself  Heinj^^  consulted  a-,  a  lawyer  in  rej^^ard  to 
the  sale  of  a  deserted  Maptist  Meetinj^-house  at  Le.xiri^ton.  Massachusetts,  lie 
ailvis«'d  the  trustees  to  keep  it.  and  hold  service  in  it.  and  to  their  surprise 
offered  himself  as  a  preacher.  The  expi-riment  was  made  :  at  the  first  service 
there  were  sixteen  or  seventeen  present,  at  th(;  x\v\\.  iurvi.  and  at  the  third  the 
house  was  crowded.  He  now  was  sure  of  two  thin<,'s  :  first,  that  he  had  found 
his  true  callinJ,^  and  second,  that  there  must  l)e  a  new  place  for  worship.  The 
trustees  saiti  they  could  not  even  pay  for  new  windows  in  the  old  buildini^. 
Hut  his  mind  was  made  up,  and  he  chose  a  novel  methoti  of  raising  money. 
I'larly  Monday  mornin<,^  takini,^  an  axe  he  himself  began  to  tear  down  the  old 
house.  This  stranj^^e  i)roce(Hlin^r  attracted  the  atti-ntion  of  passers  by  and  called 
forth  questions,  with  the  result  that  subscriptions  kept  cominj^  in  all  day. 
Before  the  year  was  out  a  new  meetiui^-house  was  ready  for  its  energetic 
pastor.  He  attended  lectures  at  the  Newton  Theological  Seminary  and  was 
ordained  in  1879. 

In  1882,  he  accepted  a  call  to  the  Grace  Baptist  Church.  Philadelphia,  at  a 
small  salary,  and  with  a  smaller  congregation  than  the  church  at  Lexington. 
.In  less  than  a  year  his  congregation  numbered  1 200.  and  a  larger  auditorium 
was  seen  to  be  a  necessity.  In  iSqi  the  Temple  was  finished,  one  of  the  most 
complete  church  edifices  anywhere.  Its  seating  capacity  is  4100.  which  can  be 
increased  by  chairs  to  4600.  The  plan  and  construction  of  the  building  show 
the  place  which  the  pastor  believes  a  church  building  should  occupy.  It  has 
the  usual  features  of  a  large  church,  in  addition  to  the  main  room,  such  as 
Sunday-school  rooms  and  the  Pastor's  Bible-class  rorjm.  which  together 
seat  about  3000.  But  behind  these  are  a  dining-room  seating  500.  rooms 
for  the  Trustees,  for  the  Young  Men's  and  the  Young  Women's  Christian 
Associations,  cloak  rooms,  pantries,  kitchens,  etc.,  while  in  an  annex  are 
the  boilers,  engines,  and  electric  plant.  The  church  building  is  intended  to 
be  the  centre  of  the  religious  activity  of  the  congregation,  the  place  from  which 
every  religious  and  philanthropic  effort  should  begin. 

One  of  the  most  important  outgrowths  of  this  church  is  the  Temple 
College,  a  place  where  working  people,  especially  those  who  have  received 
a  very  elementary  education,  can  obtain  instruction  practically  without  cost 
to  themseives.  The  institution  is  intended  to  supplement,  not  supplant  the 
public  schools.     The  extent  to  which  this  work  has  grown,  is  indicated   by 


CHARL/iS   If.   rARKIIi'RST.  589 

the   fact  that  during  the  year  endinj^  May,  1S94,  in  the  day,  afternoon,  and 
eveninj^  departments  th«*  attendance  agj^rej^ated  2000  pupils. 

Mr.  Conwell  is  one  of  the  most  popular  public  lecturers  in  the  country', 
llis  receipts  from  his  lectures  have  been  very  larj.je.  of  which  it  is  said,  about 
four-fifths  have  been  used  to  assist  the  educational  work  of  his  church. 


CHARLES    H.    PARKHURST. 

THE  CHAMPION  OK  MUNICIPAL  REFORM. 

Few  names  have  of  late  been  niort-  prominently  brought  before  the 
notice  of  the  people  than  that  of  Charles  11.  I'arkhurst  of  \t;w  York  city,  a 
reformer  in  the  truest  sense  of  the  word.  He  was  born  in  bramiiighani. 
Massachusetts,  February  17,  1842.  When  he  was  about  eleven  years  old 
the  family  moved  to  Clinton,  it  the  same  State.  Here  young  I'arkhurst 
attended  school,  was  clerk  for  a  dme  in  a  store,  and  prepared  himsc.-lf  for 
college.  He  entered  Amherst  in  1862  and  was  graduated  in  1866.  Hi-  was 
Principal  of  the  Amherst  High  .School  for  two  years,  and  continued  in  the  pro- 
fession of  teaching  for  some  time  afterward  ;  but  feeling  that  he  was  called  to 
the  ministry,  he  went  to  Germany,  studying  at  Halle,  l.eipsic,  and  Bonn. 
During  this  formative  period  of  his  life  he  was  greatly  inHuencetl  by  his  mother, 
who  helped  him  with  his  studies,  having  been  a  teacher  herself  Hut  aside  from 
home  training,  the  most  salient  intluences  of  his  life  came  from  his  fortunate 
association  while  at  Amherst  College  with  its  late  President,  Julius  H.  .Seelye. 
It  was  on  the  recommendation  of  President  Seelye  that  the  Congregational 
Church  at  Leno.x,  Massachusetts,  engaged  young  Parkhurst  as  their  pastor 
on  his  return  from  Europe.  Indirectly,  President  .Seelye;  was  the  means  of 
bringing  the  future  reformer  to  New  York.  As  a  preacher  his  style  is  not 
specially  finished,  but  his  discourses  are  epigrammatic,  independent,  practical 
and  full  of  force.     He  is  far  from  being  what  is  known  as  a  popular  preacher. 

In  the  course  of  his  parish  work,  he  became  much  interested  in  young  men, 
and  was  led  to  look  into  the  opportunities  which  they  had  in  the  great  city  for 
rational  enjoyment  and  recreation.  He  was  mucii  impressed  in  discovering 
how  much  vice  alxjunded.  and  how  great  are  the  allurements  in  a  large  city  to 
draw  young  men  away  from  purity  of  life  and  manners.  He  found  that  within 
a  very  short  distance  of  his  own  church  there  were  haunts  of  the  grossest  vices, 
accom|)anied  by  manifold  devices  to  attract  and  hold  young  men.  In  the  course 
of  further  investigation  he  became  satisfied  that  these  places,  though  well  known 
to  the  police,  were  left  unharmed,  or  were  connived  at ;  that  of  the  numerous 
saloons,  not  a  few  were  unlicensed,  and  that  a  large  .Sunday  trade  was  carried 
on  in  spite  of  the  law.     He  had  become  a    member  of  the  New  York  Society 


590 


CHARLES  H.   PARKHURST. 


for  the  Prevention  of  Crime,  and  in  1 891.  on  the  death  of  its  President,  Dr. 
Howard  Crosby,  he  was  chosen  to  succeed  him.  He  made  a  point  of  his 
acceptance  that  the  Society  should  devote  itself  mainly,  not  to  the  bringing  of 
lawbreakers  to  justice,  but  that  it  should  use  all  the  influence  and  power  it  had, 
to  make  those  who  were  bound  to  see  that  laws  should  be  enforced,  do  their 
duty.  In  other  words,  that  the  Society  should  attack  the  police  officers,  and 
men  who,  in  conniving  at  crime  and  infraction  of  the  laws,  were  "  the  abettors 

and  accessories  of  those 
crimes  which  are  the  result 
of  the  disposition  to  immo- 
rality, to  gambling,  and  to 
drink,"  "  We  shall  never 
suppress  these  crimes,"  he 
said,  "until  we  suppress  the 
influences  which  make  it 
possible  for  them  to  exist." 
As  a  part  of  the  campaign 
he  preached  a  sermon  Feb- 
ruary 14,  1892,  in  which  he 
attacked  the  administration 
of  the  city  with  unsparing 
hand. 

During  the  next  four 
weeks,  through  detectives 
and  through  personal  visits. 
Dr.  Parkhurst  secured  two 
hundred  and  eighty -four 
cases  of  gross  violation  of 
law,  and  on  March  13th  he 
preached  his  second  sermon, 
in  which  he  could  say  "I 
know."  When  summoned 
before  the  Grand  Jury,  his 
testimony  was  unimpeachable  and  had  great  effect,  for  the  Jury  in  its  charge 
boldly  condemned  the  police.  It  is  needless  to  say  that  Dr.  Parkhurst's 
arraignment  uicated  a  great  sensation,  for  his  sermons  were  reported  and 
commented  upon  in  every  newspaper  of  the  city.  The  individuals  who  were 
attacked  at  first  smiled  and  paid  little  attention.  Many  who  were  his  friends 
said  he  was  righteous  overmuch  ;  others  said  he  was  an  alarmist ;  others, 
that  he  sought  notoriety  ;  others  ridiculed  him,  or  showed  indignation  at  his 
methods ;    some    even    said   he    was   a   public    nuisance.      Still    he    kept   on 


CHARLES    IT,   rARKIlriiST. 


DWIGHT  L.  MOODY.  591 

until  by  his  charges  and  proofs  he  forced  an  investigation  by  the  Legislature. 
The  revelations  made  before  the  investigating  committee  abundantly  con- 
firmed Dr.  Parkhurst's  allegations.  Police  officers  in  high  positions  were 
brought  to  trial  and  convicted  and  others  tied.  The  community  was  shocked 
and  disgusted  by  the  revelations,  and,  as  a  result  of  the  movement  begun 
by  the  fearless  reformer,  the  elections  of  November,  1894,  completely  over- 
threw the  political  ring  in  control  of  the  city,  which  was  now  placed  in  charge 
of  men  pledged  to  reform,  and  to  honest  and  faithful  administration  of  the 
laws.  It  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  had  it  not  been  for  the  able  and 
untiring  efforts  of  Dr.  Parkhurst  this  revolution  would  not  have  taken  place. 
He  well  deserves  the  triumph  he  has  gained.  P2very  newspaper  speaks  of  him 
with  respect  and  no  one  dares  to  ignore  him.  It  is  a  personal  victory  probably 
unequaled  in  this  country,  and  the  effect  has  not  been  limited  to  New  York. 
Encouraged  by  his  success,  men  elsewhere,  who  were  hopeless  of  accomplishing 
anything  in  the  direction  of  reform,  have  been  nerved  to  greater  efforts,  and 
good  citizens  have  been  roused  to  do  their  part  in  supporting  Municipal  Reform, 
by  their  voice,  their  influence  and  their  votes. 


DWIGHT    L.    MOODY. 

THE  GREAT  EVANGELIST. 

Am,  of  the  remarkable  men  whose  lives  and  work  have  been  briefly  con- 
sidered, are  educated  men.  college  bred,  and  further  trained  by  travel,  or  by 
circumstances  particularly  favorable  to  the  development  of  the  intellectual 
faculties.  They  all,  moreover,  are  ministers  of  the  (Jospel,  and  in  no  small 
degree  have  used  the  vantage  ground  of  the  pulpit.  We  now  come  to  a  man 
who  has  had  neither  the  advantages  of  college  or  university  training,  nor  of  any 
circumstances  which  can  be  held  to  be  in  any  way  specially  tavorable  to  the 
development  of  power  and  influence.  And  yet,  perhaps,  no  one  of  those 
described  in  this  chapter  is  better  known,  or  has  had  wider  or  more  beneficial 
influence  upon  his  fellowmen  than  the  layman  who  still  bears  the  simple  name 
of  Dwight  L,  Moody.  He  was  born  February  5,  1S37,  at  Northfield,  Massa- 
chusetts, the  si.xth  child  of  his  parents.  When  he  was  about  four  yc^ars  old 
his  father  died,  suddenly,  leaving  his  widow  scantily  provided  for.  The  little 
Dwight  grew  up,  amid  the  beautiful  surroundings  of  th(;  Connecticut  valley, 
living  the  hard  life  of  a  country  boy  whose  family  are  in  narrow  circumstances. 
When  he  was  somewhat  jiast  seventeen  his  school  days  came  to  an  end,  ami  he 
started  out  to  make  his  fortune.  He  went  to  Boston,  where  he  was  converted. 
In  September,  1855,  he  went  to  Chicago,  and  secured  a  position  as  salesman  in  a 
boot  and  shoe  store.     Young  Moody's  rough  and  ready  manners,  his  earnestness 


592  DWIGHT  L.  MOODY. 

and  untiring'  energy  were  well  suited  to  his  new  position,  and  he  was  very  suc- 
cessful. He  carried  with  him  from  Boston  his  desire  for  Christian  activity,  and 
after  uniting  himself  with  the  Plymouth  Congregational  Church,  one  of  the  first 
things  he  did  was  to  hire  four  pews  in  the  church  and  keep  them  filled  Sunday 
after  Sunday  with  young  men.  Soon  he  felt  he  must  have  a  Mission  of  his  own. 
He  found,  before  long,  a  place  to  his  mind — an  empty  saloon,  almost  within  call 
of  about  two  hundred  drinking  places  and  gambling  resorts.  Young  Moody 
had  little  education,  and  little  experience,  but  he  had  earnestness,  faith,  and  a 
longing  desire  to  help  others.  The  school  greatly  prospered,  within  a  year  the 
average  attendance  reaching  six  hundred  and  fifty. 

Though  successful  in  his  business,  he  came  to  be  so  full  of  his  religious 
work  that  he  gave  up  mercantile  life  altogether,  in  order  that  he  might  devote 
his  whole  time  to  the  work  of  an  evangelist.  The  old  Northside  Mission  con- 
tinued to  be  his  chief  interest.  The  work  grew,  and  in  1863  a  building  was 
erected,  the  cost  of  which  was  defrayed  by  money  raised  by  Mr.  Moody  himself. 

In  1 87 1  at  a  convention  in  Indianapolis,  Moody  met  with  Ira  D.  Sankey, 
and  was  so  struck  with  the  power  of  his  singing  that  as  soon  as  he  was  intro- 
duced to  him,  after  asking  where  he  lived,  and  a  few  other  questions,  he  said, 
"  I  want  you."  "What  for?"  "To  help  me  in  my  work  at  Chicago."  "I 
cannot  leave  my  business."  "You  must.  I  have  been  looking  for  you  for  the 
last  eight  years.  You  must  give  up  your  business  and  come  to  Chicago  to 
me."  After  due  deliberation  Sankey  went,  and  then  began  that  wonderful 
jnxrtaership  in  the  work  of  evangelization  ;  and  thus  was  formed  that  com- 
bination of  names.  Moody  and  Sankey,  so  familiar  to  hundreds  of  thousands. 

In  1872,  the  two  friends  visited  the  British  Isles  as  evangelists.  It  took 
time  for  them  to  get  fairly  started,  but  after  some  weeks,  meetings,  the  like  of 
which  had  never  been  seen,  were  held  all  over  the  land.  In  London,  the  audi- 
ences numbered,  in  some  instances,  eighteen  and  twenty  thousand,  composed 
of  all  classes  of  the  community.  It  was  during  this  trip  that  the  collection  of 
hymns  so  well-known  as  the  Moody  and  .Saakey's  Gospel  Hymns  was  compiled. 

lH)r  the  past  twenty  years  and  more  Mr.  Moody  has  continued  to  live 
the  life  of  an  evangelist,  and  has  visited  many  cities  and  towns  all  over  the 
I'nited  States,  he  also  has  gone  over  into  Canada,  and  again  visited  England. 
In  1886  he  invited  the  Colleges  of  the  United  States  and  Canada  to  send 
delegates  to  a  .Summer  .School  of  College  Students  at  Mt.  Hermon,  near 
Xorthficld.  This  and  other  conventions  at  Northfield  have  been  attended 
by  many  hundreds,  who  have  been  addressed  by  Mr.  Moody  himself,  and  by 
distinguished  and  practiced  speakers  and  workers  from  at  home  and  abroad. 
At  the  time  of  the  Columbian  I'air  he  organized  a  system  of  religious  meetings 
to  be  held  in  Chicago  during  the  continuance  of  the  exhibition.  Hundreds  of 
thousands  thus  came  under  the  intluence  of  the  great  evangelist. 


WILLIAM  LLOYD  GARRISON, 

THE    QREAT    ANTI-SLAVBRY    AOITATOR. 

HE  long  struggle  over  slavery  in  the  United  States  devel- 
oped two  characters  v/hich  were  a  curious  contrast  to  each 
other, — Calhoun  and  Garrison  ;  the  man  who  believed  that 
slavery  was  divinely  right,  and  who  would  sacrifice  the 
Union  to  establish  it,  and  the  man  who  believed  slavery 
eternally  wrong,  and  who  would  sacrifice  the  Union  to  de- 
stroy it.  Calhoun  died  ten  years  before  the  great  war  by 
which  the  long  debate  was  at  last  ended  ;  but  to  Garrison 
it  was  given  to  see  the  final  triumph  of  freedom.  History 
records  no  more  impressive  scene  than  that  which  took 
place  after  the  fall  of  Charleston,  when  Garrison  stood  beside 
the  grave  of  the  great  advocate  of  slavery.  There  were  the  victor  and  the  van- 
quished. In  these  two  men  were  embodied  the  opposing  moral  forces  whose 
conflict  had  brought  about  the  great  struggle.  The  cause  to  which  Calhoun's 
life  had  been  devoted  was  overthrown  at  the  cost  of  untold  blood  and  treasure, 
and  the  conqueror  stood  gazing  upon  the  tomb  which  held  his  dust. 

William  Lloyd  Garrison  was  born  in  1805,  in  Newburyport,  Massachusetts. 
When  he  was  only  three  years  old,  his  father,  who  was  a  sailor,  deserted  his 
family,  leaving  his  wife  and  two  boys  in  great  poverty.  Lloyd  learned  the  trade 
of  printing,  and  when  only  twenty-one  became  editor  of  the  Newburyport  Free 
Press,  in  which  the  earliest  productions  of  the  poet  Whittier  were  first  pub- 
lished. He  afterward  editetl  the  Ahrtiona/  Philanthropist,  of  Boston,  devoted 
to  temperance  and  other  reforms,  and  a  paper  at  Bennington,  Vermont.  The 
real  work  of  his  life,  however,  began  in  1829,  when  he  joined  Benjamin  Lundy 
in  publishing  the  Geniiis  of  Universal  Emancipation,  in  Baltimore. 

Lundy  w'as  a  gentle  and  mild-mannered  Quaker,  devoted  to  gradual 
emancipation  and  colonization.  He  had  but  little  conception  of  the  white  heat 
which  burned  in  Garrison's  bosom,  or  of  the  conflagration  which  it  would  kindle 
in  a  country  ruled  by  the  slave  power.  The  theory  of  gradual  emancipation 
was  contemptuously  tolerated  by  the  pro-slavery  party,  as  it  furnished  a  sort  of 
safety-valve  which  kept  agitation  from  reaching  too  high  a  pressure.     When 

595 


596  WILLIAM  LLOYD  GARRISON. 

Garrison  joined  Lundy,  it  was  aj^reed  that  each  should  advocate  his  own  princi- 
ples, siininjr  his  initials  to  his  articles.  "Thus,"  says  Goldwin  Smith,  "the 
Genius  lad  two  voices,  of  which  one  was  by  far  the  louder  and  clearer." 

In  liis  salutatory.  Garrison  declared  for  immediate  and  unconditional  eman- 
cipation. This  declaration  could  not  fail  to  arrest  attention  in  a  city  like  Balti- 
more, which  was  the  centre  of  slave-traffic,  and  where  slave  auctions  and  the 
shipment  of  cari^oes  of  slaves  were  constantly  going  on.  Every  week  the 
Genius  had  a  column  of  slavery  horrors,  a  large  share  of  which  occuried  in 
Baltimore.  One  Sunday  the  two  reformers  were  visited  by  a  slave,  whc  had 
just  been  flogged  with  a  cowhide  ;  his  fault  being  that  he  had  not  loaded  a 
wagon  to  suit  the  overseer.  On  his  bleeding  back  they  counted  twenty-seven 
terrible  gashes.  Garrison  noted  that  he  frequently  heard  in  passing  houses  the 
sound  of  the  whip,  and  cries  of  anguish. 

Garrison's  engagfement  on  the  Genius  was  still  recent  when  he  got  into 
trouble  with  a  Mr.  Todd,  a  merchant  of  his  own  town  of  Newburyport,  who  had 
allowed  one  of  his  ships  to  be  freighted  with  slaves  from  Baltimore.  Todd  was 
denounced  in  a  flaming  editorial,  for  which  Garrison  was  promptly  sued.  He 
was  adjudged  guilty  of  libel,  and  condemned  to  pay  a  fine  of  fifty  dollars  and 
costs,  amounting  in  all  to  about  one  hundred  dollars.  Not  being  able  to  pay 
the  fine,  he  was  sent  to  jail.  His  imprisonment,  however,  did  not  depress  or 
discourage  him.  He  was  allowed  to  receive  visitors,  and  had  the  free  range  of 
the  prison.  His  friends  outside,  among  them  John  G.  Whittier,  were  more 
troubled  than  he  himself  To  their  sympathetic  letters  he  responded  by  con- 
trasting his  brief  and  mild  captivity  with  the  cruel  and  life-long  captivity  of  the 
slaves  ;  and  he  asked,  if  the  oppression  of  one  man  e.xcited  so  much  sympathy, 
how  much  greater  ought  to  be  the  sympathy  excited  by  the  far  worse  oppression 
of  millions.  After  forty-nine  days'  imprisonment,  Whittier  was  successful  in 
securing  the  aid  of  Arthur  Tappan,  a  wealthy  merchant  of  New  York,  who  paid 
Garrison's  fine,  and  he  was  set  free. 

This  episode  brought  the  partnership  of  Garrison  and  Lundy  to  an  end. 
Garrison  went  back  to  Massachusetts,  and  in  1830  began  lecturing  for  the  cause. 
But  he  soon  had  a  chilling  experience  in  the  quarter  where  he  might  have 
expected  warm  sympathy.  The  churches  of  both  Newburyport  and  Boston 
were  closed  against  him  ;  if  the  pastor  was  willing  to  open  the  door,  the  trustees, 
more  careful  of  financial  interests,  were  not.  At  Boston  it  was  left  for  a  society 
of  avowed  infidels  to  give  the  Christian  lecturer  the  use  of  a  hall  for  a  cause  in 
which  they  had  no  interest  beyond  their  loyalty  to  freedom  of  opinion,  and  in 
support  of  which  he  appealed  to  the  gospel  which  they  rejected. 

Garrison  soon  resolved  to  publish  a  paper  of  his  own  in  support  of  imme- 
diate abolition, — a  paper  which  should  have  but  one  voice,  and  that  clear  and 
unmistakable.     His  partnership  with  Lundy  had  convinced  him  that  no  gentle 


THE  POWER  OF  SLAVERY. 


597 


and  gradual  measures  would 
accomplish  anything.  Slavery 
was  at  the  height  of  its  power. 
Instead  of  gradual  decay  and 
extinction,  which  th(!  framers 
of  the  constitution  had  antici- 
pated, it  had  begun  to  dream 
of  endless   life  and   unlimited 


A    SI.AVK    IK-NT. 


extension.  The  people 
idolized  the  I'nion,  which 
they  Ijelieved  to  be  the 
source  of  security,  wealth, 
and  power,  and  any  threat 
of  secession  by  the  slave- 
holders was  enough  to 
bring  to  their  knees  those 
who  regarded  the  Union 
as  essential. 

On    .Saturday,    Janu- 


598  WILLIAM  LLOYD  GARRISON. 

ary  ist,  1831,  appeared  in  Boston  the  first  number  of  the  Liberator.  It  was  a 
small  four-page  paper,  with  four  columns  to  the  page,  and  was  to  be  issued 
weekly  Garrison  had  not  a  dollar  of  capital.  The  paper  was  printed  at  first 
with  borrowed  type.  His  only  helper  was  his  old  friend,  Isaac  Knapp,  who 
had  become  his  partner  in  the  enterprise.  The  two  did  all  the  work  of  every 
kind.  In  the  first  issue  they  declared  their  determination  to  continue  the  paper 
as  long  as  they  had  bread  and  water  to  live  on.  They  did  in  fact  live  on  bread 
and  milk,  with  a  little  fruit  and  cakes  bought  in  small  shops  near  by. 

Emancipation,  immediate,  unconditional,  and  without  compensation,  was 
the  doctrine  which  the  Liberator,  as  soon  as  it  got  fairly  under  way,  began  to 
preach.  The  utter  wrongfulness  and  sinfulness  of  slavery  was  the  basis  of  the 
movement,  and  in  adopting  it  Garrison  had  grasped  the  certain  assurance  of 
ultimate  victory. 

The  salutatory  of  the  Liberator  showed  that  its  editor  meant  to  speak  out 
without  restraint.  "  I  will  be  as  harsh  as  truth  and  as  uncompromising  as 
justice.  On  this  subject  I  do  not  wish  to  think  or  speak  or  write  with  modera- 
tion. No !  No  1  Tell  a  man  whose  house  is  on  fire  to  give  a  moderate 
alarm ;  tell  him  to  moderately  rescue  his  wife  from  the  hands  of  the  ravisher  ; 
tell  the  mother  to  gradually  extricate  her  babe  from  the  fire  into  which  it  has 
fallen — but  urge  me  not  to  use  moderation  in  a  cause  like  the  present.  I  am 
in  earnest — I  will  not  equivocate — I  will  not  excuse — I  will  not  retreat  a  single 
inch — and  I  will  be  heard  !" 

The  Liberator,  in  spite  of  the  smallness  of  its  circulation,  soon  told.  The 
South  was  profoundly  moved.  The  slaves,  indeed,  could  not  read  ;  but  the  pic- 
torial heading,  which  represented  an  auction  at  which  "  slaves,  horses,  and  other 
cattle  "  were  being  offered  for  sale,  and  a  whipping-post,  at  which  a  slave  was 
being  flogged,  spoke  only  too  plainly.  In  the  background  was  the  Capitol  at 
Washington,  with  a  flag  inscribed  "  Liberty  "  floating  over  the  dome.  Vigilance 
associations  took  Garrison  in  hand.  First  came  bloodthirsty  editorials  ;  then 
threats  of  lynching  ;  then  attempts  to  prevent  by  law  the  circulation  of  the 
Liberator  at  the  South.  The  grand  jury  of  North  Carolina  indicted  Garrison 
for  the  circulation  of  "a  paper  of  seditious  tendency,"  the  penalty  for  which 
was  whipping  and  imprisonment  for  the  first  offense,  and  death  for  the  second. 
The  Assembly  of  Georgia  offered  a  reward  of  five  thousand  dollars  to  any  one 
who,  under  the  laws  of  that  State,  should  arrest  the  editor,  bring  him  to  trial, 
and  prosecute  him  to  conviction. 

In  1833  Garrison  was  sent  to  England  by  the  Anti-Slavery  Society.  The 
act  abolishing  slavery  in  the  West  Indies  was  then  before  Parliament,  and  there 
was  great  public  interest  in  the  subject.  Garrison  was  heartily  received,  and 
among  other  attentions  paid  him,  was  invited  to  breakfast  by  Buxton.  When  he 
entered,  his  host,  instead  of  taking  his  hand  at  once,  scanned  him  with  a  look  of 


rilE  ANII-SI.A  V/iR  1 '  SOCIErV.  599 

surprise,  and  inquired  with  an  accent  of  doiiljt  whether  he  had  the  pleasure  of 
addressing  Mr.  Garrison,  of  Boston.  Being  told  that  he  had,  he  liftetl  up  his 
hands  and  exclaimed,  "  Why,  my  dear  sir,  I  thought  you  were  a  black  man  !  and 
I  have  consecjuently  invited  this  company  of  ladies  and  gentlemen  to  be  present 
to  welcome  Mr.  Garrison,  the  black  advocate  of  emancipation  from  the  United 
States  of  America."  Garrison  took  this  as  a  high  compliment,  since  it  implied 
a  belief  that  no  white  American  would  plead  as  he  had  done  for  the  slave. 

On  Garrison's  return  he  was  received  as  a  traducer  of  his  country,  because 
of  his  utterances  in  b^ngland.  A  meeting  to  organize  an  Anti-Slavery  Society 
in  New  York,  for  whicn  he  chanced  to  come  in,  was  mobbc:d,  and  the  Abolition- 
ists driven  from  the  hall.  A  threatening  mob  beset  the  Liberator  office  at  Bos- 
ton, But  Garrison,  in  face  of  the  storm,  nailed  his  colors  to  the  mast.  "  I 
speak  the  truth,  painful,  humiliating,  and  terrible  as  it  is  ;  and  because  I  am 
bold  and  faithful  to  do  so,  am  I  to  be  branded  as  the  calumniator  and  enemy  of 
my  country?  Sir,  it  is  because  my  affection  for  her  is  intense  and  paramount 
to  all  selfish  considerations  that  I  do  not  parley  with  her  crimes.  I  know  that 
she  can  neither  be  truly  hap|)y  nor  prosperous  while  she  continues  to  manacle 
and  brutalize  every  sixth  child  born  on  her  soil.  Lying  lips  are  speaking  '  Peace, 
peace '  to  her,  but  she  shall  not  see  peace  until  the  tears  of  her  repentance  shall 
have  washed  away  every  stain  of  blood  from  her  escutcheon." 

In  October,  1833,  "^  ^"^  ^^"^"^  issued  for  a  convention  to  form  the  American 
Anti-Slavery  Society.  The  meeting-place  was  in  Philadelphia,  to  which  in  the 
beginning  of  December  the  Abolitionists  made  their  way,  though  many  had  to 
meet  the  difficulties  of  a  slender  purse.  On  the  steamboat  from  New  York 
Garrison  got  into  conversation  with  a  fellow-passenger  on  the  subject  of  slavery. 
The  stranger  was  most  favorably  impressed  by  Garrison's  exposition,  and  said 
that  if  all  Abolitionists  were  as  fair  and  reasonable  as  he  there  would  be  less 
opposition  to  the  enterprise.  "  But,  sir,  depend  upon  it,  that  hare-brained, 
reckless  fanatic.  Garrison,  will  damage  if  he  does  not  shipwreck  any  cause." 
"Allow  me,  sir,"  said  a  fellow-delegate,  the  Rev.  S.  J.  May,  "to  introduce  you 
to  Mr.  Garrison." 

THE    ERA    OF    MOI?    LAW. 

In  1834,  George  Thompson,  a  famous  English  anti-slavery  lecturer,  with 
whom  Garrison  had  formed  an  alliance  in  England,  was  brought  over  to  the 
United  States  to  assist  in  the  crusade.  Thompson  was  a  most  eloquent  man, 
and  had  done  good  service  to  the  cause  in  his  own  country.  The  arrival  of  the 
"British  emissary,"  and  his  appearance  on  the  anti-slavery  platform  in  New 
Englafid.  where  he  did  not  fail  to  show  his  power,  inflamed  the  popular  wrath  to 
fury.  The  result  was  a  riot,  got  up,  not  by  a  rabble,  but  by  "  men  of  property  and 
standing,"  in  Boston,  who  were  determined  "  to  put  a  stop  to  the  impudent, 
bullying  conduct  of  the  foreign  vagrant,  Thompson,  and  his  associates  in  mis- 


Goo 


WILLIAM  LLOYD  GARRISON. 


chief!"  Thompson  was  expected  to  speak  at  a  meeting  of  the  Ladies'  Anti- 
Slavery  Society.  I'ortunately  he  was  not  there  ;  iiad  he  fallen  into  the  hands 
of  the  mob,  it  is  certain  he  would  have  been  tarred  and  feathered,  and  not  unlikely 
that  he  would  have  been  lynched.  Missing  their  intended  victim,  the  mob  laid 
violent  hands  on  Garrison,  tore  his  clothes  off  his  back,  and  dragged  him  through 
the  streets  with  a  rope  round  his  body.  He  was  rescued  from  his  enemies  by 
Mayor  Lyman,  who  saw  no  other  way  to  place  him  in  safety  than  to  send  him 
to  prison,  to  which  he  was  accordingly  consigned,  the  crowd  surging  fiercely 
round  the  flying  carriage. 

In   1845   ^^^  triumph  of  slavery  seemed  complete.     The  annexation  of 

Texas,  as  fresh  slave  territory, 
was  accomplished,  and  a  war  of 
conquest  against  Mexico  was 
soon  begun.  In  1847,  Garrison, 
accompanied  by  Frederick  Doug- 
lass, the  famous  negro  orator, 
traveled  in  the  West.  When 
seated  in  the  cars,  Douglass  was 
ordered  by  a  white  man,  who  had 
a  lady  with  him,  to  "get  out  of 
that  seat."  He  quietly  replied 
that  he  would  give  up  the  seat  if 
asked  in  a  civil  manner ;  where- 
upon the  white  man  seized  him, 
dragged  him  violently  out  of  the 
seat,  and  when  Douglass  pro- 
tested, threatened  to  knock  his 
teeth  down  his  throat.  At  Har- 
risburg,  the  mob,  having  heard 
that  a  "  nigger  "  was  to  lecture, 
greeted  them  with  brickbats,  fire- 
crackers, and  rotten  eggs.  Doug, 
lass  was  not  allowed  to  sit  at  the  tables  of  the  hotels,  and  for  two  days  hardly 
tasted  food.  The  clergy  were  generally  hostile.  Sometimes  places  for  meetings 
could  hardly  be  found  ;  but  at  other  places  great  crowds  attended,  and  listened 
with  respect  and  sympathy. 

The  next  episode  in  Garrison's  life  was  pleasant.  George  Thompson,  now 
an  M.  P..  ventured  over  again  from  England.  He  was  charged  to  present  a 
testimonial  to  Garrison,  in  the  shape  of  a  gold  watch,  commemorating  the  twenty 
years  of  the  Liberator  s  life.     In  acknowledgment.  Garrison  said  : — 

"Mr.  President,  if  this  were  a  rotten  *igg''  (holding  up  the  watch)  "era 


ZACKARY    TAYLOR,    PRESIDENT   IN    f849-'50. 


SLAl'ERV  AND  THE  WAR.  6oi 

brickbat,  I  should  know  how  to  receive  it."  (Lauj^rhinjjf  and  cheers.)  "If  these 
cheers  were  the  yells  of  a  frantic  mob  seekinj^^  my  life,  I  shoiiKl  know  precisely 
how  to  behave.  Hut  the  presentation  of  this  valuable  gift  is  as  unexpected  by  me 
as  wouKl  be  the  falling  of  the  stars  from  the  heav(;ns  ;  and  I  feel  iiulescribably 
small  before  you  in  accepting  it.  A  gold  watch!  \\  hy,  I  have  been  compensated 
in  this  cause  a  million  times  over !  In  the  darkest  hour,  in  the  greatest  peril,  J 
have  felt  just  at  that  moment  that  it  was  everything  to  be  in  such  a  cause." 

In  1854  ^'^^  slavery  question  became  the  foremost  political  issue.  I'rom 
thenceforth  no  agitation  was  needed  to  keep  it  before  the  country  ;  and  as 
( jarrison  no  longer  stood  alone  in  denouncing  slavery,  his  position  became  more 
tolerabh,'.  When  Linccjln  was  elected,  and  the  secession  movement  began, 
(iarrison  welcomed  the  dissolution  of  the  Union,  which  he  had  called  "a  cov- 
enant with  death  and  an  agreement  with  hell,"  in  the  language  of  Scripture, 
because  the  Constitution  recogniz(;d  and  protected  slavery.  "Now,  then,"  said 
Ciarrison,  "let  there  be  a  convention  of  the  I'ree  .States  called  to  organize  an 
indeixMident  government  on  free  and  just  principles  ;  let  the  South  take  the 
public  property  on  wh'ch  it  has  laid  piratical  hands,  let  it  take  even  the  capital 
if  it  will,  and  depart  in  peace  to  organize  its  own  confederation  of  violence  and 
tyranny."  But  he  had  scarcely  penned  the  words  when  all  thought  of  peaceful 
separation  was  swept  away  by  the  torrent  of  public  wrath  evoked  by  the  firing 
on  Fort  Sumter. 

Whatever  the  professions  of  the  Government  might  be,  the  war  was  practi- 
cally a  war  against  slavery.  While  it  was  a  war  for  the  Union  only.  Garrison 
stood  aloof;  nor  till  it  manifestly  became  a  war  against  slavery  was  his  sympathy 
declared.  Even  then  he  seemed  to  feel  that  his  position  needed  explanation  ; 
and  he  humorously  said  that  when  he  called  the  Union  "a  covenant  with  death 
and  an  agreement  with  hell,"  he  had  not  foreseen  that  death  antl  hell  would 
secede.  After  emancipation  he  heartily  supported  President  Lincoln.  He  was 
a  conspicuous  figure  on  that  memorable  occasion  in  Boston  when  Andrew, 
the  great  "war  governor"  of  Massachusetts,  put  the  colors  into  the  hands  of 
Colonel  Shaw,  the  devoted  young  commander  of  the  first  negro  regiment,  who 
fell  while  leading  his  regiment  in  the  assault  on  P'"ort  Wagner.  After  the  close 
of  the  war,  when  the  thirteendi  amendment,  abolishing  slavery,  was  passed,  he 
felt  that  the  long  contest  was  at  an  end.  He  resolved  to  cease  the  publication 
of  the  Liberator,  and  retire  to  private  life,  "  Most  happy  am  I,"  he  said,  "  to 
be  no  longer  in  confiict  with  the  mass  of  my  fellow-countrymen  on  the  subject  of 
slavery.  For  no  man  of  any  refinement  or  sensibility  can  be  indifierent  to  the 
approbation  of  his  fellow-men,  if  it  be  rightly  earned." 

Most  touching  and  inspiring  was  the  strain  of  praise  and  thanksgiving  with 
which  he  concluded  the  Liberator  : — 

"  Rejoice,  and  give  praise  and  glory  to  God,  ye  who  have  so  long  and 
35 


6o2  WILLIAM  LLOYD  GA/iKISOX 

00  iiiitirin.i(ly  participated  in  all  tin:  trials  and  vicissitudes  of  that  mit,'hty  conflict ! 

1  lavinj^f  sown  in  tears,  now  reap  in  joy.  I  lail,  redeemed,  rei^enerated  America  ! 
Hail.  North  and  Scjiith,  I'Last  and  West!  lliiil,  the  cause  of  peace,  of  liberty, 
of  rij,diteousness.  thus  min;htily  stren,irthen(!d  and  sijjnally  jilorified  !  .  ,  .  Hail, 
ye  ransomed  millions,  no  more  to  he  chained,  scourj^'ed.  mutilated,  bouj^ht  and 
sold  in  the  market,  robbed  of  all  rights,  hunted  as  partridj,'es  upon  the  moun- 
tains, in  ycnir  llij^dit  to  obtain  tleliverance  from  the  house  of  lx»ndaj,'e.  brandetl 
and  scorned  as  a  connecting;  link  bt-twcen  the  human  race  and  the  brute  creation  ! 
Hail,  all  nations,  tribes,  kindreds,  and  peoples,  'made  of  one  blood,'  interested 
in  a  common  redemption,  heirs  of  the  same  immortal  destiny  !  Hail,  an,t,fels  in 
glory  and  spirits  of  the  just  made  perfect,  and  time  your  harps  anew,  sin_t,nn,ir, 
'Great  and  marvelous  are  thy  works,  Lord  God  Almi.i,'hty  !  just  and  true  are  thy 
ways,  thou  Kin(,r  of  Saints  !".  .  . 

The  eveninjr  of  Garrison's  life  was  as  peaceful  as  its  prime  had  been 
stormy.  He  was  a  fre(iuent  contril)utor  to  periodicals,  and  he  took  a  keen 
interest  in  political  affairs,  especially  in  all  measures  affecting  the  black  race. 
His  work  had  won  for  him  many  devoted  friends,  both  in  America  and 
England,  in  whose  society  his  leisure  was  happily  spent. 

He  died  in  New  York  on  May  24,  1S79,  and  was  buried  in  Boston. 


THE  STORY  OF  AMERICAN  SLAVERY. 


THE  history  of  the  negro  in  America  is,  in  brief,  the 
record  of  slavery  agitation,  political  struggle,  civil 
war,  emancipation,  and  gradual  growth  into  citizenship. 
When,  over  two  hundred  and  seventy  years  ago — 
it  is  in  doubt  whether  the  correct  date  is  1 619  or 
1620 — a  few  wretched  negroes,  some  say  fourteen 
some  say  twenty,  were  bartered  for  provisions  by  the 
crew  of  a  Dutch  man-of-war,  then  lying  off  the  Virginia 
coast,  it  would  have  seemed  incredible  that  in  1S90 
the  negro  population  of  the  Southern  States  alone 
should  almost  reach  a  total  of  seven  million  souls.  The  peculiarity  of  the 
form  of  slaver)-,  begun  almost  by  chance  it  seemed,  in  that  act  of  barter  in 
the  feeble  little  colony  of  Virginia,  was  that  it  was  based  on  the  claim  of 
race  inferiority.  African  negroes  had,  indeed,  been  sold  into  slavery  among 
many  nations  for  perhaps  three  thousand  years ;  but  in  its  earlier  periods 
slavery  was  rather  the  outcome  of  war  than  the  deliberate  subject  of  trade,  and 
white  captives  no  less*  than  black  were  ruthlessly  thrown  into  servitude.  It  has 
been  estimated  that  in  historical  times  some  forty  million  Africans  have  been 
enslaved.  The  discovery  and  colonization  of  America  gave  an  immense 
stimulus  to  the  .African  slave  trade.  The  Spaniards  found  the  Indian  an  intract- 
able slave,  and  for  the  arduous  labors  of  colonization  soon  began  to  make  use 
of  negro  slaves,  importing  them  in  great  numbers  and  declaring  that  one  negro 
was  worth,  as  a  human  beast  of  burden,  four  Indians.  Soon  the  English 
adventurers  took  up  the  traffic.  It  is  to  Sir  John  Hawkins,  the  ardent  dis- 
coverer, that  the  English-speaking  peoples  owe  their  participation  in  the  slave 
trade.  He  has  put  it  on  record  as  the  result  of  one  of  his  famous  voyages,  that 
he  found  "that  negroes  were  very  good  merchandise  in  Hispaniola  and  might 
easily  be  had  on  the  coast  of  Guinea."  For  his  early  adventures  of  this  kind 
he  was  roundly  taken  to  tysk  by  Queen  Elizabeth.  But  tradition  says  that  he 
boldly  faced  her  with  argument,  and  ended  by  convincing  the  Virgin  Queen 
that  the  slave  trade  was  noi  merely  a  lucrative  but  a  philanthropic  undertaking. 

603 


6()4  THE  STORY  OF  AM  ERIC  AX  SLAVERY. 

Certain  it  is  that  she  acquiesced  in  future  slave  tracling,  while  her  successors, 
Charles  II  and  James  II,  chartered  four  s'ave  trading'-  companies  and  received 
a  share  in  their  profits.  It  is  noteworthy  that  both  Great  Britain  and  the  United 
States  recoirnized  the  horrors  of  the  slave  trade  as  ret^ards  the  seizincr  and 
transportation  from  Africa  of  the  unhappy  ney;roes,  lon^^r  before  they  coald 
brino^  themselves  to  deal  with  the  problem  of  slavery  as  a  domestic  institution. 
Of  those  horrors  nothing  can  be  said  in  exa'ji'geration.  They  exist  to-day  in  the 
interior  of  Africa,  in  no  less  terrible  form  than  a  hundred  years  ag^o  ;  and  the  year 
1 89 1  has  seen  the  Great  Powers  combining  in  the  attempt  to  eradicate  an  evil  of 
enormous  and  growing  proportions.  The  peculiar  atrocities  attending  the  expor- 
tation of  slaves  from  Africa  to  other  countries  have,  however,  happily  become  a 
thing  of  the  past.  What  those  atrocities  were  even  in  our  day  may  be  judged 
from  one  of  many  accounts  given  by  a  no  means  squeamish  or  over  sensitive  sailor, 
Admiral  Hobart.  He  thus  describes  the  appearance  of  a  slaver  just  captured  by  a 
British  ship :  "There  were  four  hundred  and  sixty  Africans  on  board,  and  what 
a  sight  it  was  !  The  schooner  had  been  eighty-five  days  at  sea.  They  were 
short  of  water  and  provisions  ;  three  distinct  diseases — namely,  small-pox, 
ophthalmia,  and  diarrhtea  in  its  worst  form — had  broken  out,  while  coming 
across,  among  the  poor,  doomed  wretches.  On  opening  the  hold  we  saw  a 
mass  of  arms,  legs,  and  bodies,  all  crushed  together.  Many  of  the  bodies  to 
whom  these  limbs  belonged  were  dead  or  dying.  In  fact,  when  we  had  made 
some  sort  of  clearance  among  them  we  found  in  that  fearful  hold  eleven  bodies 
lying  among  the  living  freight.  Water !  Water  !  was  the  cry.  Many  of  them 
as  soon  as  free  jumped  into  the  sea.  partly  from  the  delirious  state  they  were 
in,  partly  because  they  had  been  told  that  if  taken  by  the  English  they  would 
be  tortured  and  eaten." 

The  institution  of  slavery,  introduced  as  we  have  seen  into  Virginia,  grew 
at  first  very  slowly.  Twenty-five  years  after  the  first  slaves  were  landed  the 
negro  population  of  the  colony  was  only  three  hundred.  But  the  conditions  of 
agriculture  and  of  climate  were  such,  that  once  slavery  obtained  a  fair  start,  it 
spread  with  continually  increasing  rapidity.  We  find  the  Colonial  Assembly 
passing  one  after  another  a  series  of  laws  defining  the  condition  of  the  negro 
slave  more  and  more  clearly,  and  more  and  more  pitilessly.  Thus,  a  distinction 
was  soon  made  between  them  and  Indians  held  in  servitude.  It  was  enacted, 
"that  all  servants  not  being  Christians  imported  into  this  colony  by  shipping, 
shall  be  slaves  for  their  lives  ;  but  what  shall  come  by  land  shall  serve,  if  boyes 
or  girles  until  thirty  years  of  age,  if  men  or  women  twelve  years  and  no  longer." 
And  before  the  end  of  the  century  a  long  series  of  laws  so  encompassed  the 
negro  with  limitations  and  prohibitions,  that  he  almost  ceased  to  have  any 
criminal  or  civil  rights  and  became  a  mere  personal  chattel. 

In  some  of  the  Northern   colonies  slavery  seemed  to  take  root  as  readily 


BHGIXX/XC  OF  THE  SLAVE  TRAFFIC. 


60; 


and  to  flourish  as  rapidly  as  in  the  South.     It  was  only  after  a  considerable  time 
that  social  and  commercial   conditions  arose  which  led  to  its  y^radual  abandon- 
ment.    In  New  York  a  mild  type;  of  negro  slavery  was  introduced  by  the  Dutch- 
The   relation   of  master  and   slav(-'   seems   in   the 
period  of  the   Dutch  rul(^  to  have  been  free  from 
great  severity  or  cruelty.      .After  the  seizure  of  the 
government  by  the  luijji-lish,  however,  the  institution 
was    officially   recognized    ami    even    encouragcul. 
The    slave    trade   grew  in    magnitude :    and    h(M'e 


again  we  find  a  series  of  oppres- 
dding  the  meet- 
ing of  negroes  together,  laying 
down  penalties   for  concealing 
sla\-es,    and   th('   like.      In   the 
early   years  of  tiie  eighteenth 
century    fears    of   insurrection 
became    prevalent,    and   these 
fears  culminated  in  1741  in  the  episode  of  the  so-called  Negro  I'Kjt.     \'ery  briefly 
stated,  this  plot  grew  out  of  a  succession  of  fires  supposed  to  have  been  the  work 
of  negro  incendiaries.    The  most  astonishing  contradictions  ami  self-inculpations 


6o6  THE  STOR  V  OF  AMERICAN  SLA  VER  V. 

are  to  be  found  in  the  involved  mass  of  testimony  taken  at  the  different  trials. 
It  is  certain  that  the  perjury  and  incoherent  accusations  of  these  trials  can 
only  be  equaled  by  those  of  the  alleged  witches  at  Salem,  or  of  the  famous 
Popish  plot  of  Titus  Oates.  The  result  is  summed  up  in  the  bare  statement 
that  in  three  months  one  hundred  and  fifty  ne^jroes  were  imprisoned,  of 
ivhom  fourteen  were  burned  at  the  stake,  eij^diteen  hanged,  and  seventy-one 
•were  transported.  Another  result  was  the  passing  of  even  more  stringent 
legislation,  curtailing  the  rights  and  defining  the  legal  status  of  the  slave. 
When  the  Revolution  broke  out  there  were  not  less  than  fifteen  thousand 
slaves  in  New  York,  a  number  greatly  in  excess  of  that  held  by  any  other 
Northern  colony. 

Massachusetts,  the  home  in  later  days  of  so  many  of  the  most  eloquent 
abolition  agitators,  was  from  the  very  first,  until  after  the  war  with  Great  Britain 
was  well  under  way,  a  stronghold  of  slavery.  The  records  of  1633  tell  of  the 
fright  of  Indians  who  saw  a  "  Blackamoor  "  in  a  tree  top  whom  they  took  for 
the  devil  in  person,  but  who  turned  out  to  be  an  escaped  slave.  A  few  years 
later  the  authorities  of  the  colony  officially  recognized  the  institution.  It  is  true 
that  in  1645  the  general  court  of  Massachusetts  ordered  certain  kidnapped 
negroes  to  be  returned  to  their  native  country,  but  this  was  not  because  they 
were  slaves  but  because  their  holders  had  stolen  them  away  from  other  masters. 
Despite  specious  arguments  to  the  contrary,  it  is  certain  that,  to  quote  Chief 
Justice  Parsons,  "  Slavery  was  introduced  into  Massachusetts  soon  after  its  first 
settlement,  and  was  tolerated  until  the  ratification  of  the  present  constitution  in 
1780."  The  curious  may  find  in  ancient  Boston  newspapers  no  lack  of  such 
advertisements  as  that,  in  1728,  of  the  sale  of  "two  very  likely  negro  girls" 
and  of  "  A  likely  negro  woman  of  about  nineteen  years  and  a  child  about  seven 
months  of  age,  to  be  sold  together  or  apart."  A  Tory  writer  before  the  out- 
break of  the  Revolution,  sneers  at  the  Bostonians  for  their  talk  about  freedom 
when  they  possessed  two  thousand  negro  slaves.  Even  Peter  Faneuil,  who 
built  the  famous  "  Cradle  of  Liberty,"  was  himself,  at  that  very  time,  actively 
eno-aged  in  the  slave  trade.  There  is  some  truth  in  the  once  common  taunt  of 
the  pro-slavery  orators  that  the  North  imported  sla\'es,  the  South  only  bought 
them.  Certainly  there  was  no  more  active  centre  of  the  slave  trade  than  Bris- 
tol Bay,  whence  cargoes  of  rum  and  iron  goods  were  sent  to  the  African  coast 
and  exchanged  for  human  cargoes.  These  slaves  were,  however,  usually  taken, 
not  to  Massachusetts,  but  to  the  West  Indies  or  to  Virginia.  One  curious  out- 
come of  slavery  in  Massachusetts  was  that  from  the  gross  superstition  of  a 
negro  slave,  Tituba,  first  s|jrang  the  hideous  delusions  of  the  Salem  witchcraft 
trials.  The  negro,  it  may  be  here  noted,  played  a  not  insignificant  part  in 
Massachusetts  Revolutionary  annals.  Of  negro  blood  was  Crispus  Attucks, 
one  of  the  "martyrs"  of  the  Boston  riot;  it  was  a  negro  whose  shot  killed  the 


EXECUTING  NI;(;koi;s  in  new  YORK 


Co8  THE  STOR  V  OF  AMERICAN  SLA  VER )  \ 

British  General  Pitcairn  at  Bunker  Hill ;  and  it  was  a  negro  also  who  planned 
the  attack  on  Percy's  supply  train. 

As  with  New  York  and  Massachusetts,  so  with  the  other  colonies.  Either 
slavery  was  introduced  by  greedy  speculators  from  abroad  or  it  spread  easily 
from  adjoining  colonies.  In  1776  the  slave  population  of  the  thirteen  colonies 
was  almost  exactly  half  a  million,  nine-tenths  of  whom  were  to  be  found  in  the 
Southern  States.  In  the  War  of  the  Revolution  the  question  of  arming  the 
negroes  raised  bitter  opposition.  In  the  end  a  comparatively  few  were  enrolled, 
and  it  is  admitted  that  they  served  faithfully  and  with  courage.  Rhode  Island 
even  formed  a  regiment  of  blacks,  and  at  the  siege  of  Newport  and  afterwards 
at  Point's  Bridge,  New  York,  this  body  of  soldiers  fought  not  only  without  reproach 
but  with  positive  heroism. 

With  the  debates  preceding  the  adoption  of  the  present  Constitution  of  the 
United  States  the  political  problem  of  slavery  as  a  national  question  began. 
Under  the  colonial  system  the  responsibility  for  the  traffic  might  be  charged, 
with  some  justice,  to  the  mother  country.  But  from  the  day  when  the  Declaration 
of  Independence  asserted  "  That  all  men  are  created  equal,  that  they  are  endowed 
by  their  Creator  with  certain  inalienable  rights  ;  that  among  these  are  life,  liberty 
and  the  pursuit  of  happiness,"  the  peoples  of  the  new,  self-governing  States 
could  not  but  have  seen  that  with  them  lay  the  responsibility.  There  is  ample 
evidence  that  the  fixing  of  the  popular  mind  on  liberty  as  an  ideal  bore  results 
Immediately  in  arousing  anti-slavery  sentiment.  Such  sentiment  existed  in  the 
South  as  well  as  in  the  North.  Even  North  Carolina  in  1 786  declared  the  slave 
trade  of  "evil  consequences  and  highly  impolitic."  All  the  Northern  States 
abolished  slavery,  beginning  with  Y^ermont,  in  1777  and  ending  with  New  Jersey 
in  1804.  It  should  be  added,  however,  th^t  many  of  the  Northern  slaves  were 
not  freed,  but  sold  to  the  South.  As  we  have  already  intimated,  also,  the 
agricultural  and  commercial  conditions  in  the  North  were  such  as  to  make  slave 
labor  less  and  less  profitable,  while  in  the  South  the  social  order  of  things, 
agricultural  conditions,  and  the  climate,  were  gradually  making  it  seemingly 
indispensable. 

When  the  Constitutional  debates  began  the  trend  of  opinion  seemed 
strongly  against  slavery.  Many  delegates  thought  that  the  evil  would  die  out 
of  itself  One  thought  the  abolition  of  slavery  already  rapidly  going  on  and 
soon  to  be  completed.  Another  asserted  that  "slavery in  time  will  not  be  a 
speck  in  our  country."  Mr.  Jefferson,  on  the  other  hand,  in  view  of  the  retention 
of  slavery,  declared  roundly  that  he  trembled  for  his  country  when  he  remem- 
bered that  God  was  just.  And  John  Adams  urged  again  and  again  that  "  every 
measure  of  prudence  ought  to  be  assumed  for  the  eventual  total  extirpation 
of  slavery  from  the  United  States."  The  obstinate  States  in  the  convention 
were  South  Carolina  and  Georgia.     Their  delegates  declared  that  their  States 


SLAVERY  ESTABLISHED  LV  THE  SOUTH.  609 

would  absolutely  refuse  ratification  to  the  Constitution  unless  slaver)-  were 
recognized.  The  compromise  sections  finally  agreed  upon  avoided  the  use  of 
the  words  slave  and  slavery  but  clearly  recognized  the  institution  and  even  gave 
the  slave  States  the  advantage  of  sending  representatives  to  Congress  on  a 
basis  of  population  determined  by  adding  to  the  whole  number  of  free  persons, 
"three-fifths  of  all  other  persons."  The  other  persons  thus  referred  to  were,  it 
is  needless  to  add,  negro  slaves. 

The  entire  dealing  with  the  question  of  slavery,  at  the  framing  of  the  Con- 
stitution, was  a  series  of  compromises.  This  is  seen  again  in  the  postponement 
of  forbidding  the  slave  trade  from  abroad.  Some  of  the  Southern  States  had 
absolutely  declined  to  listen  to  any  proposition  which  would  restrict  their  freedom 
of  action  in  this  matter,  and  they  were  yielded  to  so  far  that  Congress  was 
forbidden  to  make  the  traffic  unlawful  before  the  year  1808.  As  that  time  ap- 
proached, President  Jefferson  urged  Congress  to  withdraw^  the  country  from  all 
"  further  participation  in  those  violations  of  human  rights  which  have  so  long  been 
continued  on  the  unoffending  inhabitants  of  Africa."  Such  an  act  was  at  once 
adopted,  and  by  it  heavy  fines  were  imposed  on  all  persons  fitting  out  vessels 
for  the  slave  trade  and  also  upon  all  actually  engaged  in  the  trade,  while  vessels 
so  employed  became  absolutely  forfeited.  Twelve  years  later  another  act  was 
passed  declaring  the  importation  of  slaves  to  be  actual  piracy.  This  latter  law, 
however,  was  of  little  practical  value,  as  it  was  not  until  1861  that  a  conviction 
was  obtained  under  it.  Then,  at  last,  when  the  whole  slave  question  was  aljout 
to  be  settled  forever,  a  ship-master  was  convicted  and  hanged  for  piracy  in  New 
York  for  the  crime  of  being  engaged  in  the  slave  trade.  In  despite  of  all  laws, 
however,  the  trade  in  slaves  was  continued  secretly,  and  the  profits  were  so 
enormous  that  the  risks  did  not  prevent  continual  attempts  to  smuggle  slaves 
into  the  territory  of  the  United  States. 

The  first  quarter  of  a  century  of  our  history,  after  the  adoption  of  the  Con- 
stitution, was  marked  by  comparative  quietude  in  regard  to  the  future  of  slavery. 
In  the  North,  as  we  have  seen,  the  institution  died  a  natural  death,  but  there 
was  no  disposition  evinced  in  the  Northern  States  to  interfere  with  it  in  the 
South.  The  first  great  battle  took  place  in  1820  over  the  so-called  Missouri 
Compromise.  Now,  for  the  first  time,  the  country  was  divided,  sectionally  and 
in  a  strictly  political  way,  upon  issues  which  involved  the  future  policy  of  the 
United  States  as  to  the  extension  or  restriction  of  slave  territory.  State  after 
State  had  been  admitted  into  the  Union,  but  there  had  been  an  alternation  of 
slave  and  free  States,  so  that  the  political  balance  was  not  disturbed.  Thus, 
Virginia  was  balanced  by  Kentucky,  Tennessee  by  Ohio,  Louisiana  by  Indiana, 
and  Mississippi  by  Illinois.  The  last  State  admitted  had  been  Alabama,  of  course 
as  a  slaveholding  State.  Now  it  was  proposed  to  admit  Missouri,  and,  to  still 
maintain  the  equality  of  political  power,  it  was  contended  that  slavery  should  be 


6 1  o  THE  STOR  V  OF  AMERICAN  SLA  VER  V. 

prohibited  within  her  borders.  Hut  the  slave  power  had  by  this  time  acquired 
great  strength,  and  was  deeply  impressed  with  the  necessity  of  establishing  itself 
in  the  vast  territory  west  of  the  Mississippi.  The  Southern  States  would  not 
tolerate  for  a  moment  the  proposed  prohibition  of  slavery  in  the  new  State  of 
Missouri.  On  the  other  hand,  the  Middle  and  Eastern  States  were  beginning 
to  be  aroused  to  the  danger  threatening  public  peace  if  slavery  were  to  be 
allowed  indefinite  extension.  They  had  believed  that  the  Ordinance  of  1787, 
adopted  simultaneously  with  the  Constitution,  and  which  forbade  slavery  to  be 
established  in  the  territory  northwest  of  the  Ohio,  had  settled  this  question 
definitely.  A  fierce  debate  was  waged  through  two  sessions  of  Congress,  and 
in  the  end  it  was  agreed  to  withdraw  the  prohibition  of  slavery  in  Missouri,  but 
absolutely  prohibit  it  forever  in  all  the  territory  lying  north  of  36°  30'  latitude. 
This  was  a  compromise,  satisfactory  only  because  it  seemed  to  dispose  of  the 
question  of  slavery  in  the  territories  once  and  forever.  It  was  carried  mainly  by 
the  great  personal  influence  of  Henry  Clay.  It  did,  indeed,  dispose  of  slavery 
as  a  matter  of  national  legislative  discussion  for  thirty  years. 

But  this  interval  was  distinctively  the  period  of  agitation.  Anti-slavery 
sentiment  of  a  mild  type  had  long  existed.  The  Quakers  had,  since  Revolu- 
tionary times  held  anti-slavery  doctrines,  had  released  their  own  servants  from 
bondage,  and  had  disfellowshiped  members  who  refused  to  concur  in  the  sacri- 
fice. The  very  last  public  act  of  Benjamin  Franklin  was  the  framing  of  a  memo- 
rial to  Congress  deprecating  the  existence  of  slavery  in  a  free  country.  In  New 
York  the  Manumission  Society  had  been  founded  in  i  785,  with  John  Jay  and 
Alexander  Hamilton,  in  turn,  as  its  presidents.  But  all  the  writing  and  speak- 
ing was  directed  against  slavery  as  an  institution  and  in  a  general  way,  and  w'.h 
no  tone  of  aggression.  Gradual  emancipation  or  colonization  were  the  only 
remedies  suggested.  It  was  with  the  founding  of  the  "Liberator"  by  William 
Lloyd  Garrison,  in  1831,  that  the  era  of  aggressive  abolitionism  began.  Garri- 
son and  his  society  maintained  that  slavery  was  a  sin  against  God  and  man  ;  that 
immediate  emancipation  was  a  duty  ;  that  slave  owners  had  no  claim  to  compen- 
sation ;  that  all  laws  upholding  slavery  were,  before  God,  null  and  void.  Garri 
son  exclaimed  :  "  I  am  in  earnest.  I  will  not  equivocate — I  will  not  excuse — I 
will  not  retreat  a  single  inch.  And  I  will  be  heard."  His  paper  bore  conspicu- 
ously the  motto  "  No  union  with  slaveholders."  The  Abolitionists  were,  in 
numbers,  a  feeble  band  ;  as  a  party  they  never  acquired  strength,  nor  were 
their  tenets  adopted  strictly  by  any  political  party  ;  but  they  served  the  purpose 
of  arousing  the  conscience  of  the  nation.  They  were  abused,  vilified,  mobbed, 
all  but  killed.  Garrison  was  dragged  through  the  streets  of  Boston  with  a  rope 
around  his  neck — through  those  very  streets  which,  in  1854,  had  their  shops 
closed  and  hung  in  black,  with  flags  Union  down  and  a  huge  coffin  suspended  in 
mid-air,  on  the  day  when  the  fugitive  slave,  Anthony  Burns,  was  marched  through 


AGITATION  AND  AGITATORS. 


fir 


them  on  his  way  back  to  his  master,  under  a  guard  of  nearly  two  thousand  men. 
Mr.  Garrison's  society  soon  took  the  ground  that  the  union  of  States  with 
slavery  retained  was  "an  agreement  with  hell  and  a  covenant  with  death,"  and 
openly  advocated  secession  of  the  non-slaveholding  States.  On  this  issue  the 
Abolidonists  split  into  two  branches,  and  those  who  threw  off  Garrison's  lead 
maintained  that  there  was  power  enough  under  the  Constitution  to  do  away  with 
slavery.  To  the  fierce  invective  and  constant  agitation  of  Garrison  were,  in 
time,  added  the  splendid  oratory  of  Wendell  Phillips,  the  economic  arguments 
of  Horace  Greeley,  the  wise  statesmanship  of  Charles  Sumner,  the  fervid  writ- 


A   CHITON    I'lELl)   IN   GEORGIA. 


ings  of  Channing  and  Emerson,  and  the  noble  poetry  of  Whittier.  All  these 
and  others,  in  varied  ways  and  from  different  points  of  view,  joined  in  educating 
the  public  opinion  of  the  North  to  see  that  the  permanent  existence  of  slavery 
was  incompatible  with  that  of  a  free  Republic. 

In  the  South,  meanwhile,  the  institution  was  intrenching  itself  more  and 
more  firmly.  The  invention  of  the  cotton-gin  and  the  beginning  of  the  reign  of 
Cotton  as  King  made  the  great  plantation  system  a  seeming  commercial  neces- 
sity. From  the  deprecatory  and  half  apologetic  utterances  of  early  Southern 
statesmen  we  come  to  Mr.  Calhoun's  declaration  that  slavery  "  now  preserves 


0 1 2  THE  STOR  Y  OF  AMERICAN  SLA  VER  V. 

in  quiet  and  security  more  than  six  and  a  half  milhon  human  beings,  and  that 
it  could  not  be  destroyed  without  destroying  the  peace  and  prosperity  of  nearly 
half  the  States  in  the  Union."  The  Abolitionists  were  regarded  in  the  South 
with  the  bitterest  hatred.  Attempts  were  even  made  to  compel  the  Northern 
States  to  silence  the  anti-slavery  orators,  to  prohibit  the  circulation  through  the 
mail  of  anti-slavery  speeches,  and  to  refuse  a  hearing  in  Congress  to  anti-slavery 
petitions.  The  influence  of  the  South  was  still  dominant  in  the  North.  Though 
the  feeling  against  slavery  spread,  there  co-existed  with  it  the  belief  that  an 
open  (piarrel  with  the  South  meant  commercial  ruin  ;  and  the  anti-slavery  senti- 
ment was  also  neutralized  by  the  nobler  feeling  that  the  Union  must  be  pre- 
served at  all  hazards,  and  that  there  was  no  constitutional  mode  of  interfering 
with  the  slave  system.  The  annexation  of  Texas  was  a  distinct  gain  to  the 
slave  power,  and  the  Mexican  war  was  undertaken,  said  John  Ouincy  Adams,  in 
order  that  "  the  slaveholding  power  in  the  Government  shall  be  secured  and 
riveted." 

The  actual  condition  of  the  negro  o\'cr  whom  such  a  strife  was  being  waged 
differed  materially  in  different  parts  of  the  South,  and  under  masters  of  different 
character,  in  the  same  locality.  It  had  its  side  of  cruelty,  oppression,  and 
atrocity  ;  it  had  also  its  side  of  kindness  on  the  part  of  master  and  of  devotion 
on  the  part  of  slave.  Its  dark  side  has  been  made  familiar  to  readers  by  such 
books  as  "  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin,"  as  Dickens'  "  American  Notes,"  and  as  Edmund 
Kirk's  "Among  the  Pines  ;"  its  brighter  side  has  been  charmingly  depicted  in 
the  stories  of  Thomas  Nelson  Page,  of  Joel  Chandler  Harris,  and  of  Harry 
Edwards.  On  the  great  cotton  plantations  of  Mississippi  and  Alabama  the 
slave  was  often  overtaxed  and  harshly  treated  ;  in  the  domestic  life  of  Virginia, 
on  the  other  hand,  he  was  as  a  rule  most  kindly  used,  and  often  a  relation  of 
deep  affection  sprang  up  between  him  and  his  master.  Of  insurrections,  such 
as  those  not  uncommon  in  the  West  Indies,  only  one  of  any  extent  was  ever 
planned  in  our  slave  territory — that  of  Nat  Turner,  in  Southampton  County, 
Virginia — and  that  was  instantly  suppressed. 

With  this  state  of  public  feeling  North  and  South,  it  was  with  increased 
bitterness  and  increased  sectionalism  that  the  subject  of  slavery  in  new  States 
was  again  debated  in  the  Congress  of  1850.  The  Liberty  Party,  which  held 
that  slavery  might  be  abolished  under  the  Constitution,  had  been  merged  in  the 
Pree  Soil  Party,  whose  cardinal  principle  was,  "To  secure  free  soil  to  a  free 
people  "  without  interfering  with  slavery  in  existing  States,  but  insisting  on  its 
exclusion  from  territory  so  far  free.  The  proposed  admission  of  California  was 
not  affected  by  the  Missouri  Compromise.  Its  status  as  a  future  free  or  slave 
State  was  the  turning  point  of  the  famous  debates  in  the  Senate  of  1850,  in 
which  Webster,  Calhoun,  Douglas  and  Seward  won  fame — debates  which  have 
never  been  equaled  in  our  history  in  eloquence  and  acerbity.     It  was  in  the 


THE  FUGITIVE  SLAVE  LAW. 


6r,^ 


course  of  these  debates  that  Mr.  Seward,  while  denying!;  that  the  Constitution 
recognized  property  in  man,  struck  out  his  famous  dictum,  "There  is  a  higher 
law  than  the  Constitution."  The  end  reached  was  a  compromise  which  allowed 
California  to  settle  for  itself  the  question  of  slavery,  forbade  the  slave  trade  in 
the  District  of  Columbia,  but  enacted  a  strict  fugitive  slave  law.  To  the 
Abolitionists  this  fugitive  slave  law,  sustained  in  its  most  e.\treme  measures  by 
the  courts  in  the  famous — or  as  they  called  it,  infamous — Dred  Scott  case,  was 
as  fuel  to  fire.  They  defied  it  in  every  possible  way.  The  Underground  Rail- 
way was  the  outcome  of  this  defiance.     By  it  a  chain  of  secret  stations  was 


A    NEUKIJ   V1LLAc;E    IN    ALAHAMA. 


established,  from  one  to  the  other  of  which  the  slave  was  guided  at  night  until 
at  last  he  reached  the  Canada  border.  The  most  used  of  these  routes  in  the 
East  was  from  Baltimore  to  New  York,  thence  north  through  New  England ; 
that  most  employed  in  the  West  was  from  Cincinnati  to  Detroit.  It  has 
been  estimated  that  not  fewer  than  thirty  thousand  slaves  were  thus  assisted 
to  freedom. 

Soon  the  struggle  was  changed  to  another  part  of  the  Western  territory, 
now  beginning  to  grow  so  rapidly  as  to  demand  the  forming  of  new  States. 
The  Kansas-Nebraska  Bill  introduced  by  Douglas  was  in  effect  the  repeal  of  the 


6 1 4  THE  STOR  V  OF  AMUR/CAN  SLA  VER  Y. 

Missouri  Compromise  in  that  it  left  the  question  as  to  whether  slavery  should  be 
carried  into  the  new  territories  to  the  decision  of  the  settlers  themselves.  As  a 
consequence  immijTration  was  directed  l^y  both  the  anti-slavery  and  the  pro- 
slavery  parties  to  Kansas,  each  determined  on  obtaininij^  a  majority  to  control 
the  form  of  the  proposed  State  Constitution.  Then  bet^an  a  series  of  acts  of 
violence  which  almost  amounted  to  civil  war.  "  Hleedintj  Kansas"  became  a 
phrase  in  almost  every  one's  mouth.  Border  ruffians  swaj^gered  at  the  polls 
and  attempted  to  drive  out  the  assisted  emigrants  sent  to  Kansas  by  the  Abolition 
societies.  The  result  of  the  election  of  the  Legislature  on  its  face  made  Kansas 
a  slave  State,  but  a  great  part  of  the  people  refused  to  accept  this  result ;  and 
a  convention  was  held  at  Topeka  which  resolved  that  Kansas  should  be  free 
even  if  the  laws  formed  by  the  Legislature  should  have  to  be  "  resisted  to  a 
bloody  issue." 

Prominent  among  the  armed  supporters  of  free  State  ideas  in  Kansas  was 
Captain  John  Brown,  a  man  whose  watchword  was  at  all  times  Action.  "Talk," 
he  said,  "is  a  national  institution  ;  but  it  does  no  good  for  the  slave."  He 
believed  that  slavery  could  only  be  coped  with  by  armed  force.  His  theory  was 
that  the  way  to  make  free  men  of  slaves  was  for  the  slaves  them.selves  to  resist 
any  attempt  to  coerce  them  by  their  masters.  He  was  undoubtedly  a  fanatic  in 
that  he  did  not  stop  to  measure  probabilities  or  to  take  account  of  the  written 
law.  His  attempt  at  Harper's  Ferry  was  without  reasonable  hope,  and  as  the 
intended  beginning  of  a  great  military  movement  was  a  ridiculous  fiasco.  But 
there  was  that  about  the  man  that  none  could  call  ridiculous.  Rash  and 
unreasoning  as  his  action  seemed,  he  was  yet,  even  by  his  enemies,  recognized 
as  a  man  of  unswerving  conscience,  of  high  ideals,  of  deep  belief  in  the  brother- 
hood of  mankind.  His  offense  against  law  and  peace  was  cheerfully  paid  for 
by  his  death  and  that  of  others  near  and  dear  to  him.  Almost  no  one  at  that 
day  could  be  found  to  applaud  his  plot,  but  the  incident  had  an  effect  on 
the  minds  of  the  people  altogether  out  of  proportion  to  its  intrinsic  character. 
More  and  more  as  time  went  on  he  became  recognized  as  a  pro-martyr  of 
a  cause  which  could  be  achieved  only  by  the  most  complete  self-sacrifice  of 
individuals 

Events  of  vast  importance  to  the  future  of  the  negro  in  America  now 
hurried  fast  upon  each  other's  footsteps — the  final  settlement  of  the  Kansas 
dispute  by  its  becoming  a  free  State  ;  the  forming  and  rapid  growth  of  the 
Republican  party ;  the  division  of  the  Democratic  party  into  Northern  and 
Southern  factions ;  the  election  of  Abraham  Lincoln  ;  the  secession  of  South 
Carolina,-  and,  finally,  the  greatest  civil  war  the  world  has  known.  Though  that 
war  would  never  have  been  waged  were  it  not  for  the  negro,  and  though  his  fate 
was  inevitably  involved  in  its  result,  it  must  be  remembered  that  it  was  not 
undertaken  on  his  account.     Before  the  struggle  began  Mr.  Lincoln  said  :  "Jf 


//'./A-  AND  HOW  IT  /iMANCIPATED  THE  SLAVE. 


615 


there  be  those  who  would  not  save  the  L'nion  unless  they  could  at  the  same 
time  save  slavery,  I  do  not  aj^^ree  with  them,  if  there  he  those  who  would  not 
save  the  Union  unless  they  could  at  th(.'  same  time  destroy  slavery.  I  do  not 
a^ree  with  them.  My  paramount  object  is  to  save  the  L'nion,  and  not  either  to 
destroy  or  to  save  slavery."  And  the  Northern  press  emi)hasized  over  and  over 
aorain  the  fact  that  this  was  "a  white  man's  war."  But  the  loj^ic  of  events  is 
ine.xorable.  It  seems  amazinji^  now  that  L'nion  y^enerals  should  have  been 
puzzled  as  to  the  question  whether  they  ought  in  duty  to  return  runaway  slaves 
to  their  masters.  General  Butler  settled  the  controversy  by  t)ne  hai^py  phrase 
when  he  called  the  fugitives  "contraband  of  war."     Soon  it  was  deemed  right 


to  use  these  contrabands,  to  employ  the  new-coined  word,  as  the  South  was 
using  the  negroes  still  in  bondage,  to  aid  in  the  non-fighting  work  of  the  army 
— on  fortification,  team  driving,  cooking,  and  so  on.  From  this  it  was  but  a 
step,  though  a  step  not  taken  without  much  perturbation,  to  employ  them 
as  soldiers.  At  \'icksburg,  at  Fort  Pillow,  and  in  many  another  battle,  the 
negro  showed  beyond  dispute  that  he  could  fight  for  his  liberty.  No  fiercer 
or  braver  charge  was  made  in  the  war  than  that  upon  the  parapet  of 
Fort  Wagner  by  Colonel  Shaw's  gallant  colored  regiment,  the  Massachusetts 
Fifty-fourth. 

In  a  thousand  ways  the  negro  figures  in  the  history  of  the  war.     In  its 


6i6  THE  STOR  Y  OF  AMERICAN  SLA  I  ERY. 

literature  he  everywhere  stands  out  picturesquely.  He  sought  the  flaj,'  with  the 
greatest  avidity  for  freedom  ;  Hocking  in  crowds,  old  men  and  young,  women 
and  children,  sometimes  with  cjuaint  odds  and  ends  of  personal  belongings, 
often  empty-handed,  always  enthusiastic  and  hopeful  almost  always  densely 
ignorant  of  the  meaning  of  freedom  and  of  self-support.  But  while  the  negro 
showed  this  avidity  for  liberty,  his  conduct  toward  his  old  masters  was  often 
generous,  and  almost  never  did  he  seize  the  opportunity  to  inflict  vengeance  for 
his  past  wrongs.  The  eloquent  Southern  orator  and  writer.  Henry  W.  Grady, 
said  :  "  History  has  no  parallel  to  the  faith  kept  by  the  negro  in  the  South  during 
the  war.  Often  five  hundred  negroes  to  a  single  white  man.  and  yet  through 
these  dusky  throngs  the  women  and  children  walked  in  safety  and  the 
unprotected  homes  rested  in  peace.  .  .  A  thousand  torches  would  have 
disbanded  every  Southern  army,  but  not  one  was  lighted." 

It  was  with  conditions,  and  only  after  great  hesitation,  that  the  final  step  of 
emancipating  the  slaves  was  taken  by  President  Lincoln  in  .September.  1862, 
The  proclamation  was  distincdy  a  war  measure,  but  its  reception  by  the  North 
and  by  the  foreign  powers  and  its  immediate  effect  upon  the  contest  were  such 
that  its  expediency  was  at  once  recognized.  Thereafter  there  was  possible  no 
question  as  to  the  personal  freedom  of  the  negro  in  the  United  .States  of 
America.  With  the  Confederacy,  slavery  went  down  once  and  forever.  In  the 
so-called  reconstruction  period  which  followed,  the  negro  suffered  almost  as 
much  from  the  over-zeal  of  his  political  friends  as  from  the  prejudice  of  his  old 
masters.  A  negro  writer,  who  is  a  historian  of  his  race,  has  declared  that  the 
Government  gave  the  negro  the  statute  book  when  he  should  have  had  the 
spelling  book  ;  that  it  placed  him  in  the  legislature  when  he  ought  to  have  been 
in  the  school  house,  and  that,  so  to  speak,  "  the  heels  were  put  where  the  brains 
ought  to  have  been."  A  quarter  of  a  century  and  more  has  passed  since  that 
turbulent  period  began,  and  if  the  negro  has  become  less  prominent  as  a  political 
factor,  all  the  more  for  that  reason  has  he  been  advancing  steadily  though  slowly 
in  the  requisites  of  citizenship.  He  has  learned  that  he  must,  by  force  of 
circumstances,  turn  his  attention,  for  the  time  at  least,  rather  to  educational,  in- 
dustrial, and  material  progress  than  to  political  ambition.  And  the  record  of 
his  advance  on  these  lines  is  promising  and  hopeful.  In  Mississippi  alone,  for 
instance,  the  negroes  own  one-fifth  of  the  entire  property  in  the  State.  In  all, 
the  negroes  of  the  South  to-day  possess  two  hundred  and  fifty  million  dollars' 
worth  of  property.  Everywhere  throughout  the  South  white  men  and  negroes 
may  be  found  working  together. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  war  the  negro  population  of  the  country  was  about 
four  millions,  to-day  it  is  between  seven  and  seven  and  a-half  millions  ;  in  1880, 
fifteen-sixteenths  of  the  whole  colored  population  belonged  to  the  Southern 
States,  and  the  census  of  1890  shows  that  the  proportion  has  not  greatly  changed. 


Till-.  iKl-li  XEGRO.  617 

Thi;i  ratio  in  itself  shows  how  absurdly  trillintj  in  results  have  been  all  the  move- 
ments toward  cohjiiizatioii  or  emij^^ration  to  Northern  States.  Tlu;  negro 
emphatically  belon;,'s  to  the  Southern  States,  and  in  tliein  ami  by  them  his  f,.ture 
must  be  det«.-rmined.  Another  point  ileciilcd  conclusively  by  the  ci-nsus  of  1S90 
is  se«rn  in  the  refutation  of  an  icU.-a  based,  indeed,  on  the  census  of  1880,  but 
due  in  its  origin  to  the  very  faulty  census  of  1870.  '1  his  idea  was  that  the 
colored  fxjpulation  had  increased  much  more  nipidly  in  proportitjn  than  the 
white  population.  1  he  new  census  shows,  on  the  contrary,  that  the  whites  in 
the  Southern  States  increased  during  tht;  last  decade;  nearly  twice  as  rapidly  as 
the  negroes,  or.  as  the  census  bulletin  puts  it,  in  increase  of  population,  "  the 
colored  race  has  not  held  its  own  against  the  white  man  in  a  region  where  the 
climate  and  conditions  are,  of  all  those  which  the  country  affords,  the  best  suited 
to  its  development." 

The  promise  of  the  negro  race  to-day  is  not  so  much  in  the  development 
of  men  of  exceptional  talent,  such  as  brederick  Douglas  or  Senator  Hruce,  as 
in  the  general  spread  of  intelligence  and  knowledge.  The  .Southern  .States  have 
very  generally  given  the  negro  equal  educational  opportuniti(;s  with  the  whites, 
while  the  eagerness  of  the  race  to  learn  is  shown  in  the  recently  ascertained 
fact  that  while  the  colored  population  has  increased  only  twenty-seven  per  cent, 
the  enrollment  in  the  colored  schools  has  increased  one  hundred  and  thirty-seven 
per  cent.  Fifty  industrial  schools  are  crowded  by  the  coloretl  youth  of  the 
South.  Institutions  of  higher  education,  like  the  Atlanta  University,  and 
Hampton  Institute  of  \'irginia,  and  Tuskegee  College,  are  doing  admirable  work 
in  turning  out  hundreds  of  negroes  fitted  to  educate  their  own  race.  Within  a 
year  or  two  honors  and  scholarships  have  been  taken  by  half  a  dozen  colored 
young  men  at  Harvard,  at  Cornell,  at  Phillips  Academy  and  at  other  Northern 
schools  and  colleges  of  the  highest  rank.  The  fact  that  a  young  negro,  Mr. 
Morgan,  was  in  1S90  elected  by  his  classmates  at  Harvard  as  the  class  orator 
has  a  special  significance.  Yet  there  is  greater  significance,  as  a  negro  news- 
paper man  writes,  in  the  fact  that  the  equatorial  telescope  now  used  by  the 
Lawrence  University  of  Wisconsin  was  made  entirely  by  colored  pupils  in  the 
School  of  Mechanical  Arts  of  Nashville,  Tenn.  In  other  words,  the  Afro- 
American  is  finding  his  place  as  an  intelligent  worker,  a  property  owner,  and 
an  independent  citizen,  rather  than  as  an  agitator,  a  politician  or  a  race  advocate. 
In  religion,  superstition  and  effusive  sentiment  are  giving  way  to  stricter  morality. 
In  educational  matters,  ambition  for  the  high-sounding  and  the  abstract  is  giving 
place  to  practical  and  industrial  acquirements.  It  will  be  many  years  before 
the  character  of  the  negro,  for  centuries  dwarfed  and  distorted  by  oppression 
and  ignorance,  reaches  its  normal  growth,  but  that  the  race  is  now  at  last  upon 
the  right  path  and  is  being  guided  by  the  true  principles  cannot  be  doubted. 
16 


6i8 


THE  STORY  OF  AMERICAN  SLAVERY. 


Says  one  who  has  made  an  exceedingly  thorough  personal  study  of  the  subject 
in  all  the  Southern  States :  *'  The  evolution  in  the  condition  has  kept  pace  with 
that  of  any  other  races,  and  I  think  has  been  even  a  little  better.  The  same 
forces  of  evolution  that  have  brought  him  to  where  he  is  now  will  bring  him 
further.  One  thing  is  indisputable :  the  negro  knows  his  destiny  is  in  his  own 
hands.  He  finds  that  his  salvation  is  not  through  politics,  but  through  indus- 
trial methods. 


STATUE   UF   WASHINGTON   IN  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THE  STATE   HOUSE,   RICHMOND. 


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CV 


child  to  a  woman. 


FRANCES  E.  WILLARD, 

THE  ORGANIZER  AND  HEAD  OE  THE  "  W.  O.  T.  U." 

ITH  the  latter  years  of  this  century  a  new  power  has 

made  itself  felt  in  the  world, — the  power  of  organized 

womanhood.     Fifty  years  ago  such  a  body  as  the 

',,  Woman's   Christian   Temperance   Union   was    not 

only  unknown,  but  impossible  ;  and  fifty  years  ago 

the  woman  who  has  done  more  than  any  other  to 

^oi^ I     V     ft   T'^''^^"'^       bring  it  into  being  was  a  bright,  healthy  child  of  five 

years,  living  at  Oberlin,  Ohio,  whither  her  father 
and  mother  had  moved  from  Monroe  County,  New 
York,  where  she  was  born  in  September,  1S39.  In 
1846  there  was  another  move  westward,  this  time  to 
Forest  Home,  near  Janesville,  Wisconsin.  Here 
Miss  Willard  spent  twelve  years,  in  which  she  grew  from  a 
She  had  wise  parents,  who  gave  free  rein  to  the  romping, 
freedom-loving  girl,  and  let  her  grow  up  "near  to  nature's  heart."  She  could 
ride  a  horse  or  fight  a  prairie  fire  "just  as  well  as  a  man." 

After  twelve  years  of  life  on  Wisconsin  prairies,  the  Willard  family  moved 
to  Evanston,  on  the  shore  of  Lake  Michigan,  just  north  of  Chicago.  Here  Miss 
Willard  began  her  work  as  a  teacher,  which  she  pursued  in  different  institutions 
until  1870,  when  she  was  chosen  president  of  Evanston  College  for  Ladies. 
This  place  she  filled  until  1.S74,  when  she  finally  gave  up  teaching  to  enter 
upon  a  new  and  still  larger  work. 

In  1873  occurred  in  (^hio  the  memorable  "Women's  Crusade"  against  the 
rum  shops.  Hands  of  devoted  women  besieged  the  saloons  for  days  and  weeks 
together,  entreating  the  saloon-keepers  to  cease  selling  liquor,  praying  and  sing- 
ing hymns  incessantly  in  bar-rooms  or  on  the  sidewalks,  until  the  men  who  kept 
them  agreed  to  close  them  up,  and  in  many  cases  emptied  barrels  of  licjuor  into 
the  gutters.  This  movement  at  once  arrested  Miss  Willard' s  attention.  She 
saw  in  it  the  germ  of  a  mighty  power  for  good.  She  resigned  her  position  as 
president  of  the  college  at  Evanston,  and  threw  all  her  energies  into  the  anti- 
liquor  movement.     With  her  customary  thoroughness  she  entered  upon  a  sys- 

621 


622  FRANCES  E.   IVILLARD. 

tematic  study  of  the  subject  of  intemperance  and  the  sale  of  liquor,  and  of  the 
different  measures  which  had  been  undertaken  to  abate  this  mii^hty  evil.  She 
sought  the  counsel  of  Neal  Uow  and  other  leaders  in  the  temperance  cause.  She 
joined  in  the  crusade  against  liquor-selling  in  Pittsburgh,  kneeling  in  prayer  on 
the  sawdust  -covered  floors  of  the  saloons,  and  leading  the  host  in  singing 
"Jesus,  Lover  of  My  Soul,"  and  "Rock  of  Ages,"  in  strains  which  awed  and 
melted  the  hearts  of  the  multitude  thronging  the  streets.  The  result  of  her 
work  was  a  determination  to  combine  in  one  mighty  organization  the  many  sep- 
arate bantls  of  women  temperance  workers  which  had  sprung  up  over  the  coun- 
try;  and  this  was  achieved  in  the  autumn  of  1874,  in  the  organization  at  Cleve- 
land of  that  wonderful  body,  the  National  Woman's  Christian  Temperance 
Union.  The  resolution  which  was  adopted  at  that  meeting,  written  by  Miss 
Willard  herself,  beautifully  e.Kpresses  the  spirit  in  which  they  entered  upon  the 
work.     It  read  as  follows  : — 

^^  Resolved,  That,  recognizing  that  our  cause  is  and  will  be  contested  by  mighty,  determined,  and 
relentless  forces,  we  will,  trusting  in  Him  who  is  tlie  Prince  of  Peace,  meet  argument  with  argu- 
ment, misjudgment  with  patience,  denunciation  with  kindness,  and  all  our  difficulties  and  dangers 
with  prayer." 

From  that  time  Miss  Willard's  life  is  the  history  of  the  Woman's  Christian 
Temperance  Union.  Like  the  "handful  of  corn  in  the  tops  of  the  mountains," 
all  over  this  and  in  other  lands  it  has  taken  root  and  grown  until  the  fruit  does 
indeed  "  shake  like  Lebanon."  In  almost  every  corner  of  the  United  States  is 
a  subordinate  organization  of  some  sort,  a  local  union,  a  children's  band,  a 
young  woman's  circle,  or  perhaps  all  of  these.  It  has  built  the  great  "Tem- 
perance Temple,"  one  of  the  largest  of  the  immense  business  buildings  in 
Chicago.  It  has  organized  a  large  publishing  business,  from  whose  busy 
presses  temperance  literature  is  constantly  being  circulated  in  all  parts  of  the 
country.  It  has  by  its  political  power  made  and  unmade  governors,  senators, 
and  representatives  ;  and  it  has  done  much  to  bring  the  time  when  women  shall 
take  an  equal  share  in  the  government  of  church  and  state.  In  all  this  work 
the  head  and  guiding  spirit  has  been  Frances  E.  Willard. 

Overwork  has  of  late  somewhat  impaired  her  health,  and  made  travel  and 
rest  abroad  necessary.  But  in  whatever  corner  of  the  world  she  may  dwell, 
there  is  always  a  warm  corner  kept  for  her  in  the  many  thousand  hearts  and 
homes  that  have  been  cheered  and  brightened  by  her  work  "  for  God  and  home 
and  native  land." 

Miss  Willard's  friend  and  co-worker,  Hannah  Whitall  Smith  (see  page  623;, 
says  of  her  :  "  Miss  Willard  has  been  to  me  the  embodiment  of  all  that  is  lovely 
and  good  and  womanly  and  strong  and  noble  and  tender  in  human  nature. 
She  has  clone  more  to  enlarge  our  sympathies,  widen  our  outlook,  and  develop 
our  gifts,  than  any  man  or  any  other  woman  of  our  time." 


FAMOUS  AMERICAN  WOMEN. 


BY  FRANXES  E.  WII.LARD. 
President  of  the  Ifoi/J's   ir.    C.    T.    U. 


This  book  of  American  biorrraphy  would  be  incomplete  without  some 
account  of  what  women  have  done  and  suffered  in  helping-  to  make  the  great 
republic  what  it  is.     I  am  therefore  glad  once  more  to  take  up  my  pen  to  treat 

•  of  this  my  favorite  theme. 
■^  There  were  two  distinct  early  types 

of  women,  the  Northern  and  the  Southern. 
Both  were  patrician  in  their  purity  of  ethical 
quality,  but  the  latter  more  technically  so 
in  its  environment.  Individuality  developed 
earlier  in  the  North,  because  personal 
initiative  was  necessary,  owing  to  financial 
needs.  The  Southern  woman  had  a  downier 
nest,  and  found  it  so  soft  and  warm  that 
she  rested  more  than  she  worked.  I  ler 
features  were  less  distinctive  than  those 
of  her  Northern  sister,  but  more  soft ;  her 
tones  were  deeper  and  more  mellow,  but 
had  less  of  the  clarion  timbre  of  conscious 
power.  The  line  of  grace  was  more  pro- 
■A  nounced  in  the  figure  and  movement  of 
the  .Southerner — the  line  of  power  was 
apparent  in  the  expression  and  bearing  of 
the  woman  of  the  North.  Each  was  a  noble  type,  the  one  more  lovely,  the 
other  more  achieving. 

As  a  matter  of  history,  public  schools,  which  were  established  in  New 
England  within  25  years  after  the  landing  of  the  Pilgrims,  had  no  room  for  girls, 
md  Harvard  College,  founded  twenty  years  after  the  Massachusetts  landing, 

623 


HANNAH    WUrlAM.    SMITH. 


624  WOMAN  IX  AMERICA. 

was  for  young  men,  not  for  their  sisters.  Half  a  century  passed  before  public 
schools  were  granted  to  the  people.  It  was  prophetic  that  Hartford,  Connecticut, 
should  witness  the  first  of  these — that  beautiful  city  in  which  Emma  Willard 
reached  her  early  fame.  The  date  in  Hartford  was  1 771,  only  five  years  before 
the  Revoluiion,  In  the  South,  the  better  class  of  girls  never  dreamed  of  going 
•  o  the  public  school ;  like  the  aristocracy  of  Great  Britain,  they  were  taught  by 
he  governess,  a  shadowy  figure  who  had  small  Latin  and  less  Greek — indeed, 
,mall  everything,  except  a  smattering  of  English,  much  manner,  and  unbounded 
Reference.  This  describes  the  situation  in  early  days;  but  when  Emma  Willard 
sent  out  from  her  training  school  in  Troy  young  and  forceful  women,  combining 
Northern  strength  with  Southern  grace,  they  wrought  marvels  in  the  thought 
and  development  of  the  Southern  woman  in  those  semi-baronial  homes  which 
slave  labor  rendered  possible,  even  on  a  new  continent. 

The  Dame-School  was  the  source  from  which  Northern  girls  imbibed  the 
little  that  they  knew  up  to  the  present  century.     Our  highest  authority  on  this 
subject  is  Miss  Mary  F.  Eastman,  who  says  that  these  schools  were  of  an  in- 
ferior order,  in  which  women,  often  those  who  themselves  could  hardly  more  than 
read,  would  gather  a  few  girls  about  them,  teach  them  to  "make  their  man- 
ners," according  to  the  ancient  phrase,  drill  the  alphabet  into  their  brains,  and 
enough  beyond  that  to  enable  them  to  spell  out  the  Catechism,  which  every  well- 
regulated  girl  was  obliged  to  learn  by  heart.     Charles  Francis  Adams  says  that 
during  the  first  150  years  of  our  colonial  history  "the  cultivation  of  the  female 
nind  was  regarded  with  utter  indifference,"  and  Abigail  Adams  in  one  of  her 
famous  letters  declares  that  "it  was  fashionable  to  ridicule  female  learning." 
These  were  the  days  when  women  given  to  scolding  were  condemned  to  sit  in 
public  with  their  tongues  held  in  cleft  sticks,  or  were  thrice  dipped  from  a  duck- 
ng  stool.     Miss  Eastman  says,  referring  to  this  barbarism,   "  It  would  be  better 
hat  their  tongues  had  been  tamed  by  instruction  to  becoming  speech,  or  that 
hey  had  been  permitted  to  drink  at  the  fountain  of  learning."     It  is  significant 
'hat  in  Northampton,  Massachusetts,  as  late  as  the  year  1 788,  and  in  an  intelli- 
gent community,  where  Smith's  College  is  now  located,  the  village  fathers  voted 
*not  to  be  at  the  expense  for    schooling  girls."     In   1792   the  Selectmen  of 
"^ewburyport  decided  that  "  during  the  summer  months,  when  the  boys  have 
iiminished,  the  Master  shall  receive  girls  for  instruction  in  grammar  and  read- 
ng,  after  the  dismission  of  the  boys  in  the  afternoon,  for  an  hour  and  a  half" 
The  visitor  to  this  beautiful  and  historic  seaport  is  shown  with  pride  the  site  on 
vhich  stood  the  school-house  to  which  it  is  believed  women  were  first  admitted 
on  this  continent  to  an  education  at   public   expense.      That   was  just  one 
hundred  years  ago.     The  same  progressive  town  voted  in  1803  to  establish  four 
girls'  schools,  the  first  on  record,  which  were  to  be  kept  six  months  in  the  year, 
from  six  to  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning  and  on  Thursday  afternoon, — for  the 


CHURCH  AND  SCHOOLS.  625 

.boys  had  the  pick  of  the  time  as  well  as  the  training.  We  next  find  it  re- 
corded that  in  1789,  when  the  Revolutionary  War  had  been  over  for  six  years, 
the  city  of  Boston,  risin*^  to  the  occasion,  established  three  readincf  and  writing 
schools,  which  were  open  all  the  year  round  to  boys,  and  to  girls  from  April  to 
October.  There  were  no  free  schools  in  that  city  for  "that  boy's  sister"  until 
this  date.  In  Rhode  Island  girls  were  not  admitted  to  the  public  schools  till 
1828.  But  little  by  little  the  different  gates  were  opened,  until  in  about  the 
first  quarter  of  our  century  girls  were  permitted  to  attend  the  whole  year 
through,  the  same  as  boys  ;  but  it  must  be  remembered  that  this  was  in  New 
England,  which  has  always  led  in  everything  pertaining  to  intellectual  develoj)- 
ment.  The  more  remote  States  followed  at  a  greater  distance.  Now  came  the 
battle  for  the  higher  education — which  was  much  more  difficult.  The  whole 
woman  question  was  here  passed  in  review,  and  the  conservative  cast  of  mind, 
as  was  inevitable  from  its  native  limitation,  declared  that  the  family  relation 
would  be  subverted  and  the  new  continent  depopulated  if  women  were  per- 
mitted to  follow  their  own  sweet  will  in  the  development  of  the  intellects  with 
which,  by  some  strange  inconsistency  of  fate,  they  were  endowed.  Much  as  it 
is  the  fashion  to  decry  the  Church  as  the  great  conservative  force,  let  it  be 
gratefully  remembered  by  women  everywhere,  that  the  first  schools  of  higher 
education  were  denominational  institutions,  and  resulted  trom  the  enlightened 
love  of  generous  fathers,  who,  having  girls  of  promise  in  their  families,  felt  that 
they  had  no  right  to  leave  their  mental  cultivation  unprovided  for.  Happily, 
competition  among  the  different  Churches  developed  along  the  line  of  multiply- 
ing these  seminaries  of  higher  education  for  girls,  for  no  Church  wished  its 
daughters  to  attend  a  school  founded  by  some  other  !  Perhaps  this  education  of 
the  future  mothers  of  our  nation  is  the  best  result  to  which  we  can  refer  in  the 
everlasting  battle  among  the  broken  fragments  of  the  body  of  Christ.  High 
schools  for  girls  did  not  exist  until  about  the  middle  of  the  present  century.  As 
in  the  lower  grades,  the  girls  came  only  at  early  hours,  because  it  was  a  settled 
principle  that  they  must  not  be  in  the  same  school  with  boys,  and  they  must  in 
nowise  inconvenience  these  latent  lords  of  creation.  From  the  first,  however, 
the  girls  have  proved  to  be  so  eager  for  instruction  that  their  fathers,  pleased, 
perhaps,  to  see  repetitions  of  themselves  in  the  vigorous  intellects  of  these  little 
ones,  have  responded  to  their  importunities  by  establishing  separate  high 
schools  for  their  daughters.  The  first  to  do  this  was  Newburyport  again,  in 
1842,  and  Salem,  Mass.  (where  once  they  hanged  the  witches),  in  1845,  but 
progressive  Boston  did  not  found  a  high  school  for  girls  until  1852 — almost  two 
hundred  years  after  she  had  established  a  Latin  school  for  boys,  and  more  than 
two  hundred  after  the  founding  of  Harvard  College  for  young  men. 

The  practical  outcome  of  high-school  education  in  these  latter  years  has 
been  the  State  university,  and  women  owe  more  to  this  last-named  institution 


626  JVOMAX  IN  AMERICA. 

chan  to  any  other  single  force,  for  their  education,  up  to  this  time.  By  the 
inevitable  processes  of  thought,  the  men  who  had  admitted  girls  to  every 
department  of  public  school  instruction  could  not  close  to  them  the  doors  of 
that  highest  school — the  university.  By  parity  of  reasoning,  when  the  uni- 
versity added  professional  schools,  it  would  have  been  most  illogical  to  deny  to 
the  young  women,  entrance  to  these  ;  hence  the  higher  classes  of  occupation, 
all  of  which  are  taught  in  various  State  institutions,  and  later  on  professional 
schools  for  doctors,  lawyers,  civil  engineers,  etc.,  have  been  freely  opened  to 
young  women  at  State  expense.  Collegiate  training  for  women  was  more 
difficult  to  gain.  The  pioneer  was  Oberlin,  founded  in  Ohio,  in  1S33  ;  woman 
was  welcomed  here  from  the  beginning.  Mount  Holyoke  Seminary,  in  Massa- 
chusetts, was  established  in  1 836,  by  the  immortal  Mary  Lyon — that  daughter 
of  the  people — who,  by  her  unique  method  of  domestic  services  performed 
wholly  by  the  students,  enabled  the  farmer's  daughter  to  win  as  good  an 
intellectual  training  as  Madam  Emma  Willard  provided  in  Troy  for  the 
daughters  of  the  rich.  In  1852  Antioch  College  was  founded  in  Ohio,  and 
women  were  admitted  to  all  of  its  advantages.  In  1862  Cornell  University  was 
established  on  the  same  basis,  until  now  there  is  not  a  college  west  of  the 
Alleghanics  the  advantages  of  which  are  not  equally  offered  to  the  sons  and 
daughters  of  our  people,  while  the  Leland  Stanford  University,  recently  opened 
on  the  Pacific  Coast,  near  San  Francisco,  and  having  an  endowment  of 
j^20,ooo,000,  is  in  all  its  departments  free  to  women.  The  same  is  true  of  the 
great  new  Chicago  University,  founded  by  John  D.  Rockafeller  ;  the  great 
Northwestern  University,  of  the  Methodist  Church,  at  Evanston,  in  the  suburbs 
of  the  city  ;  while  the  Annex  of  Harvard  ;  Barnard  College,  in  connection  with 
Columbia  College,  of  New  York  city  ;  the  newly  acquired  rights  of  women  at 
Brown  University,  Providence,  Rhode  Island,  and  Middlebury  College — that 
ancient  and  honorable  institution  in  Vermont, — with  the  American  University 
of  the  Methodists,  founded  by  Bishop  Hurst,  in  Washington,  D.  C,  and  Evelyn 
College,  which  is  the  Annex  of  Princeton,  in  New  York — mark  the  latest  open- 
ings for  women  in  the  fields  of  higher  education — collegiate  and  professional. 
Vanderbilt,  in  the  South,  cannot  long  res-'^t  the  oncoming  tide,  that  each  day 
cries  more  insistently,  "Place  aux  dames!"  and  "The  tools  to  those  that  can 
use  them."  » 

In  1865  Matthew  Vassar  founded,  in  Poughkeepsie,  New  York,  a  college 
for  women.  This  was  a  real  college,  and,  with  Smith,  Wellesley,  and  Bryn 
Mawr,  shows  the  high-water  mark  of  woman's  separate  education  in  this  country. 
Nobody  questions  that  before  another  generation  the  colleges  that  have  the 
annex  will  be  themselves  annexed,  and  co-education  will  universally  prevail. 

There  is  another  phase  of  the  higher  education  of  women  which  has 
exerted  a  vast  influence  on  the  public  sentiment  of  the  Republic.     Nothing 


SELF-SUPPORT.  627 

shows  the  advance  made  in  a  single  century  from  a  more  salient  point  of  view, 
than  the  fact  that  from  having  been  grudgingly  admitted  to  the  lowest  grade  of 
the  public  school,  and  obliged  to  attend  at  the  unseemly  hour  of  six  o'clock  in 
the  morning,  woman,  when  she  had  the  opportunity,  proved  herself  so  worthy 
of  it  that  to-day  cigJity-tivo  per  cent,  of  cxll  the  teuc/iers  in  the  public  schools  in 
the  United  States  are  women.  The  normal  schools  of  the  forty-four  States,  with 
their  acbnirable  methods  of  the  latest  and  most  helpful  kinds  for  the  acquire 
ment  of  thorough  training  as  teachers,  swarm  with  the  girl  of  the  period. 
Recently,  wiien  I  addressed  the  Normal  School  near  Chicago,  under  the  care  of 
that  famous  educator,  Colonel  Francis  \V.  Parker,  seventy-five  fair  damsels,  in 
graceful  reform  dress,  walked  up  the  aisle  to  the  platform,  accompanied  by  a 
single  specimen  of  the  genus  homo  attired  in  black,  and  I  laughingly  said  to 
myself,  "Is  he  in  mourning  by  reason  of  lonesomeness  and  lost  opportunity,  or 
does  he  serve  as  an  exclamation  point  to  mark  the  new  order  of  things?  " 

Southern  women  have  wakened  to  a  new  life  since  the  war.  Higher  edu- 
cation and  self-support  are  now  accepted  as  a  matter  of  course  by  all  save  the 
most  prejudiced  minds,  while  the  whole  cause  of  woman,  in  the  large  sense 
herein  defined,  is  supported  by  the  ablest  brains  among  Southern  men  and 
women.  The  White  Ribbon  movement  has  been  the  largest  intluence  thus  far 
introduced  into  that  sunny  land,  to  reveal  to  the  home-folk  their  privileges  and 
powers  in  this  Christian  civilization. 

Women  have  been  appointed  as  directors,  jointly  with  men,  in  the  Colum- 
bian Exposition  of  1893,  and  those  mighty  "auxiliary"  departments,  which 
mean  the  convening  of  philanthropic,  educational,  religious,  and  other  special- 
ties from  every  quarter  of  Christendom  for  great  conventions  throughout  the 
World's  Fair,  means  more  than  we  thought  possible  at  first,  and  especially  to 
the  bright  women  of  the  South. 

As  a  natural  outcome  of  the  mental  development  of  women  throughout 
the  Republic,  they  have  now  the  range  of  almost  all  forms  of  industry,  and  are 
practically  debarred  from  none  they  care  to  follow.  The  recent  census  enu- 
merates over  four  thousand  different  branches  of  employment  in  which  women 
are  now  engaged,  and  the  consensus  of  opinion  is,  that  as  a  class  they  do 
admirably  well.  It  is  no  longer  considered  a  token  of  refinement  to  live  upon 
the  toil  of  others,  but  women  who  support  themselves  have  the  hearty  respect 
and  good  will  of  all  sensible  women  and  of  all  members  of  the  other  sex  whose 
good  will  and  respect  are  worth  desiring.  As  brain-power  is  the  basis  of  suc- 
cess in  every  undertaking,  whether  it  be  baking  potatoes  or  writing  sonnets,  the 
immense  amplitude  given  to  the  activities  of  woman-kind  is  the  greatest  fact  of 
the  century.  To  translate  this  mass  of  brain  from  the  dormant  to  the  active 
stage  means,  not  only  to  the  individuals  now  living,  but  through  the  mighty 
forces  of  heredity  to  coming  generations,  more  than  the  greatest  mind  can 


628  WOMAN  IN  AMERICA. 

possibly  perceive.  The  expansion  thus  given  to  the  total  of  brain  momentum 
throughout  the  nation  may  be  trusted  to  conduct  us  to  such  discoveries,  inven- 
tions, philosophies,  applications  of  religion,  as  the  most  adventurous  have  not 
yet  dreamed,  and  will,  we  believe,  be  for  the  universal  uplifting  of  the  race  in 
power,  in  purity,  and  peace. 

It  is  to  be  remembered  that  all  these  mighty  opportunities  have  come  to 
women  largely  by  the  permission  of  men.  They  might  have  formed  industrial 
and  other  guilds  and  rigidly  excluded  women  from  membership.  If  men,  as  a 
class,  had  been  imbued  with  the  spirit  manifested  by  that  brilliant  writer,  Mr. 
Grant  Allen  (who  deliberately  declares  that  there  is  nothing  that  woman  has 
ever  done  as  well  as  man  can  do  it,  except  to  extend  the  census  list),  where 
would  women  have  been  in  respect  to  the  development  of  brain  and  hand  ? 
Mr.  Grant  Allen  remands  them  to  that  one  occupation  in  which  they  have 
distinguished  themselves,  and  says  they  were  "told  off"  like  so  many 
soldiers  from  an  army  selected  to  conduct  some  difficult  enterprise, 
and  that,  having  been  thus  separated  to  a  special  work,  they  have  not  in 
the  nature  of  the  case  a  right  to  scatter  elsewhere.  But  as  he  is  the 
only  man  who  has  ever  said  this  in  public  and  in  so  many  words,  and  as  our 
brothers  of  the  journalistic  pen  have  impaled  him  without  mercy  on  the  point 
of  that  swift  weapon,  we  may  conclude  that  the  common  sense  of  universal 
manhood  has  reached  the  conclusion  :  Let  any  woman  do  whatever  thing  she 
can  do  well.  Upon  this  basis  all  business  colleges  and  schools  for  typewriting 
and  shorthand  are  now  open  to  women  ;  manual  training  and  industrial  schools 
admit  them  freely  ;  colleges  and  universities,  professional  schools  and  art  classes, 
accord  them  every  advantage  ;  the  whole  field  of  journalism  is  open  to  them, 
and  but  two  citadels  yet  remain  to  be  captured, — those  of  ecclesiastical  and  civil 
power.  Sapping  and  mining  are  going  on  vigorously  around  these  citadels,  and 
many  of  their  outposts  have  been  already  taken.  Twenty-three  States  have 
already  granted  school  suffrage  ;  Kansas  has  municipal,  and  Wyoming  com- 
plete suffrage  for  women.  In  the  younger  denominations  women  stand 
equal  with  men  in  the  pulpit  as  well  as  out  of  it,  and  the  question  of  inducting 
them  into  every  position  in  the  great  denominations  is  being  actively  discussed 
and  often  favorably  commented  upon  by  the  great  constituency  of  ministers, 
editors,  and  publicists. 

The  place  of  woman  in  literature  is  striking.  Here  she  has  won  the 
largest  standing  room.  No  publisher  asks  the  question,  "  Did  a  woman  furnish 
that  manuscript?"  but  he  pays  according  to  its  merit.  The  same  is  true  in 
journalism.  Clubs  for  women  are  springing  up  everywhere,  philanthropic 
guilds  are  numerous,  there  are  religious  societies  practically  without  number, 
and  reform  movements  are  more  vigorously  directed  by  women  than  by  the 
most  notable  or  most  distinguished  experts  among  men. 


IN  THE  PROFESSIONS.  629 

Perhaps  no  feature  of  this  splendid  evolution  is  more  remarkable  than  the  last, 
namely,  the  intellectual  development  of  woman  as  a  home-maker.  The  bright, 
well-disciplined  intellects  among  society  women  have  now  found  their  exact  niche. 
They  are  somewhat  too  conservative  to  take  up  the  temfjerance  reform  or  the 
suffrag-e  movement,  although  we  believe  that  almost  without  exception  these 
great  enterprises  have  their  hearty  sympathy,'  but  in  the  department  of  woman 
as  a  housekeeper  and  home-maker  they  fmd  a  congenial  field.  They  would 
help  lift  this  profession  from  the  plane  of  drudgery.  They  would  so  train  the 
household  workers,  once  called  servants,  that  theirs  shall  be  a  veritable  voca- 
tion. All  that  science  and  art  can  do  to  elevate  the  culinary  department  of  the 
home,  to  improve  its  sanitary  conditions,  and  to  embellish  its  surroundings, 
these  women  are  determined  to  see  done.  The  number  of  new  industries  ai)d 
the  subdivisions  or  new  avocations  that  will  grow  out  of  this  movement  are 
incalculable.  We  rejoice  in  it,  for  while  we  firmly  believe  in  the  old  French 
motto,  'T'lace  aux  dames!"  and  "The  tools  to  those  that  can  use  them,"  we 
always  think  that  the  mother  is  the  central  figure  of  our  civilization,  and  to  be 
treated  accordingly  ;  thai  the  home-maker  is  the  genius  of  what  is  most  holy 
and  happy  in  our  lives.  We  believe  that  invention,  science,  education,  and  re- 
ligion should  converge  in  systematic  fashion  upon  the  evolution  of  the  home, 
which  evolution  is  bound  to  come,  and  is  rapidly  keeping  pace  with  develop- 
ments in  all  other  lines  of  human  uplift. 

While  it  pains  a  progressive  woman  to  hear  any  man  speak  as  if  the  home 
bounded  the  sphere  of  her  sex,  and  while  we  believe  the  highest  duty  of  all 
women  is  to  help  make  the  whole  world  home-like  ;  while  we  believe  that  woman 
will  bless  and  brighten  every  place  she  enters,  and  that  she  will  enter  every 
place,  we  would  sympathize  w'ith  the  possibilities  of  honorable  employment  and 
of  high  development  to  those  who  bring  just  as  much  talent,  discipline,  and  de- 
votion to  the  building  up  of  home  as  others  do  to  the  larger  world  outside.  In 
making  the  transition  from  woman  as  a  cipher  outside  of  home,  to  the  splendid 
civilization  that  welcomes  her  to  every  one  of  its  activities,  it  was  necessary  for 
the  "present  distress  "  to  emphasize  out  of  their  due  proportion  the  importance 
of  education,  industrial  avocations,  philanthropic  vocations,  science,  and  art  for 
women.  But  when  the  pendulum  swings  to  its  extreme  limit,  and  Church  and 
State  are  freely  opened  to  her,  w^e  feel  sure  it  will  swing  to  the  harmony  of  a 
real  circuit  described  by  the  Interests  of  home,  and  our  brightest  brains,  most 
skillful  hands,  and  deepest  hearts  shall  give  themselves  to  the  beautiful  amen- 
ities and  sacred  ministries  of  that  institution  which  has  been  called,  and  not  too 
often,  "Our  Heaven  below." 

A  book  is  now  being  written  entitled  "A  Woman  of  the  Nineteenth 
Century,"  and  is  to  include  one  thousand  names  of  American  women.  It  is 
found  entirely  practicable  to  gather  up  so  large  a  number  of  notable  names 


."^^Sf 


V  »        ■• 


SUSAN     II.    ANTHONY,    THK    GREAT    ADVOCATE    OK     WOMAN      aL>Hi-^(^fc. 
HORN    IS20. 


IVOMAiV  IN  AMERICA.  r..^t 

illustrative  of  the  different  forms  of  activity  in  which  women  are  now  enp;an;ed. 
This  being  true,  it  is  a  hopeless  endeavor  to  characterize  even  the  most  repre 
sentative  women  in  an  artich:  like  tlie  present.     To  do  so  would  but  invite  the 
criticism  of  making^  invidious  distinctions. 

The  political  activities  of  wuiiieii  have  been  perha()s  more  criticised  than 
any  others.  Naturally  enouj.jh,  perhaps,  as  politics  is  to-day  the  arena  wher< 
men  fij^'ht  with  ballots  rather  than  with  bayonets  or  bullets.  Hut  in  Knijland  the 
Primrose  Dames  and  the  Women  of  the  Liberal  Leatjue  are  a  mis^dity  factor  in 
working  out  the  rights  of  the  people  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  preservation  of 
aristocratic  prerogative  on  the  other.  This  country  has  yet  had  no  political 
uprising  of  women  to  match  that  of  the  motherland,  but  the  Prohibition  party 
has  for  years  had  women  as  its  truest  allies,  and  in  the  People's  party  they  take 
equal  rank  with  men,  while  both  declare  for  the  ballot  in  the  hand  of  woman  as 
her  rightful  weapon.  Conventions,  committee  meetings,  newspaper  organs,  and 
the  public  platform  all  bear  the  impress  to-day  of  the  growing  intelligence  and 
disciplined  zeal  of  women  as  partisans.  This  is  but  the  beginning  of  a  new 
movement,  the  consequences  of  which  promise  to  be  more  vast  than  any  we 
have  yet  attained  in  the  mighty  development  of  the  multitudinous  woman 
question. 

There  was  in  the  Declaration  of  Independence  the  percussive  force  of 
giant  powder  when  we  deliberately  said,  "All  men  are  born  free  and  equal,  and 
have  certain  inalienable  rights,  and  among  these  rights  are  life,  liberty,  and  the 
pursuit  of  happiness."  We  then  and  there  invoked  that  trinity  of  issues  which 
are  to-day  involved  in  the  mighty  "  Human  Question,"  namely,  the  labor 
quefcion.  temperance  question,  and  the  woman  question.  Not  until  all  these 
have  been  wrought  out  into  statutes  and  constitutions  will  there  be  rest  for 
the  land.  It  is  a  blessed  fact  that  woman  cannot  rise  alone.  From  the  first 
she  has  been  at  the  bottom  of  the  human  pyramid  ;  she  has  the  mother  heart, 
and  the  stream  cannot  rise  higher  than  its  fountain.  Whatever  lifts  and  puts 
better  conditions  about  her  in  all  stages  of  her  earthly  life,  does  the  same  for 
every  son  she  gives  to  the  nation  by  daring  to  walk  the  Via  Doloroso  of  Danger 
when  she  passes  the  sacred  but  terrible  ordeal  of  motherhood. 

Weil  has  the  poet  sung  that  "  Men  and  women  rise  and  fall  together, 
dwarfed  or  god-like,  bond  or  free."  No  woman  worthy  of  the  name  forgets 
that  she  had  a  father  and  brother  in  her  early  home,  and  for  their  sake,  as  much 
as  for  mother's  and  sister's  sake,  all  true  women  seek  to  help  both  men  and 
women  in  the  solution  of  the  great  problems  of  modern  civilization.  To  be 
strong-minded  was  once  thought  a  crime  in  woman,  but  upon  strength  of  mind 
there  is  a  premium  now.  The  bread-winning  weapon,  eagerly  sought  and  firmly 
held  in  the  delicate  but  untrembling  hand  of  woman,  is  the  only  sword  she 
needs.     We  would  make  hei   thoroughly  independent  of  marrias^e,  that  she 


632 


SPHERE  OF  WOMAN. 


r 


still  might  choose  its  old  and  sacred  path  from  motives  more  complimentary  to 
the  man  of  her  choice  than  that  "  He  will  be  a  good  provider."  We  would 
educate  her  thoroughly,  that  she  might  be  the  comrade  of  her  husband  and  her 
sons,  for  while  religion  and  affection  form  two  of  the  strands  in  the  cable  that 
binds  human  hearts  together  in  the  home,  we  believe  that  intellectual  sympathy 
is  that  third  bright  strand  which  this  glad  age  is  weaving,  and  that  no  charm 
more  holy  or  enduring  survived  the  curse  of  Eden.  We  would  endow  her  with 
power  in  Church  and  State,  that 
these  two  hierarchies  might  belong 
to  the  many  and  not  to  the  few,  to 
the  people,  and  not  to  priest  and 
politician.  We  would  make  woman 
partner  in  the  great  world's  activi- 
ties, that  she  might  more  greatly 
endow  the  children  whose  gifts 
depend  so  largely  on  her  goodness, 
greatness,  and  grace. 

God  made  woman  with  her 
faculties,  her  traits,  her  way  of 
looking  at  all  great  questions  from 
the  highest  to  the  lowest,  and  he 
made  her  to  be  a  helpmeet  for 
man,  and  he  made  man  to  be  a 
helpmeet  for  her  ;  he  made  them  to 
stand  in  a  republic,  as  I  believe, 
bearing  equally  its  magnificent 
burdens.  The  world  needs  the 
tender  sweetness  of  the  alto  voice, 
the  jubilant  good-will  of  the  soprano, 
in  sermon  as  in  psalm  ;  tenor  and 
bass  become  monotonous  at  last, 
and  the  full  diapason  of  power  and  inspiration  is  impossible  except  we  listen  to 
the  full  chorus  of  humanity.  Gotl  hasten  that  great  chorus,  in  church  and  state 
alike,  with  its  deep-hearted  love  and  its  celestial  hope  ! 


JULIA   WARP    HOWE, 
Author  of  the  "  Battle  ll\mn  0/  the  Ke/>ul<lic." 


Frances  E.  Wii,i,.\rd. 


HENRY   W.  l.ONCIKI.I.OW. 


HENRY  W.  LONGFELLOW. 


AND    THE    STORY    OK    AMERIOATM     LITERATURE. 

BY  HAMILTON  W.  MABIE,  I.L.I!.,  LIT.  D., 
Editor  of  the  "Outlook,"  A'.   )'. 


HE  author  of  "Evangeline"  and  "Hiawatha,"  and  the 
many  short  poems  which  have  become  "household 
words  "  in  so  many  homes,  was  born  in  a  stately  old  man- 
sion in  Portland,  Maine,  in  1807.  He  spent  a  most  happy 
childhood  in  this  lovely  home,  and  at  fifteen  entered  Bow- 
doin  College,  where  he  graduated  in  1825.  He  was  then 
offered  a  professorship  in  the  college,  with  the  privilege  of 
spending  some  years  in  Europe,  in  study  and  preparation, 
f  f!  '*'%>:  ''^'^  After  his  return  he  was  married  to  Mary  Storer  Potter,  a 
'  1  ?"i>--  '"  '' -'^  young  lady  of  Portland,  to  whom  he  had  long  been  attached, 
and  entered  upon  the  duties  of  his  position.  He  was  verj'  popular  with  the 
student?,  and  soon  came  to  be  quite  a  power  in  the  University.  He  became  a 
contributor  to  the  Ntn-tli  American  Review,  then  the  foremost  literary  period- 
ical of  America,  and  began  to  acquire  reputation  as  a  writer. 

In  1S35  Longfellow  received  the  offer  of  a  professorship  in  Harvard  Uni- 
versity, which  he  accepted,  with  the  stipulation  that  he  should  be  allowed  first  to 
spend  some  time  abroad  in  the  further  study  of  German  and  Scandinavian  litera- 
ture. While  in  Amsterdam,  his  young  wife  died  suddenly,  and  the  bereaved 
husband  turned  for  solace  to  intense  work  and  study.  Years  afterward  he 
embalmed  her  memory  in  the  beautiful  poem,  "  b'ootsteps  of  Angels  :  " — 

"  With  a  slow  and  noiseless  footstep 
Comes  that  mes.senfjer  divine. 
Takes  the  vacant  seat  I»cside  me, 
Lays  lier  ueiille  baud  in  mine." 

In  1836  he  returned  to  Cambridge  and  entered  upon  his  duties  at  Harvard. 
Here  he  soon  began  to  form  those  friendships  which  were  so  long  a  blessing 
and  delight  to  him  and  to  all  of  the  circle, — Felton,  Sumner,  Hillard,  Lowell, 
Agassiz,  Hawthorne,  Fields,  and  others.     With  Sumner  especiallj'  he  became 

6.1s 


636  HENRY  W.  LONGFELLOW. 

very  intimate.  Whenever  Sumner  was  in  the  neighborhood  he  always  spent 
Sunday  with  his  friend,  and  many  are  the  records  in  his  journal  of  "  Sumner  to 
dine,"  "  Sumner  to  tea,"  or  to  pass  the  night,  and  always  some  note  of  the 
absorbing  talk  which  reached  into  the  midnight  hours. 

In  1843  Longfellow  married  Miss  Frances  Appleton,  whom  he  had  met  in 
Europe,  and  who  figures  in  the  pages  of  "  Hyperion."  The  famous  old 
"  Craigie  mansion,"  which  had  been  Washington's  headquarters,  was  purchased, 
and  until  the  poet's  death  remained  his  home.  A  hedge  of  lilacs  led  to  the 
door,  and  grand  old  elms  spread  their  branches  over  the  house.  Here  his  chil- 
dren were  born  ;  and  here,  in  1S61,  he  met  the  great  sorrow  from  which  he  never 
entirely  recovered, — the  tragic  death  of  his  wife.  She  was  sealing  some  papers 
of  the  children's  curls,  in  the  library,  when  she  trod  upon  a  match,  which  set  fire 
to  her  clothing,  causing  injuries  from  which  she  died.  She  was  buried  upon  die 
anniversary  of  her  marriage,  crowned  with  a  wreath  of  orange  blossoms.  Most 
pathetic  are  the  passages  in  Longfellow's  journal  in  after  years,  telling  of  his 
desolation.  For  a  long  time  he  could  speak  to  no  one  of  his  grief;  only  after 
months  had  passed  did  he  even  allude  to  it  in  a  letter  to  his  brother:  "And 
now,  of  what  we  both  are  thinking  I  can  write  no  word.  God's  will  be  done." 
In  his  journal  he  writes;  "Another  walk  in  the  pines,  in  the  bright  morning 
sunshine.  Everything  w^ithout  full  of  loveliness  ;  but  within  me  the  hunger,  the 
famine  of  the  heart."  At  Christmas  :  "  How  inexpressibly  sad  are  all  holidays  ! 
But  the  dear  little  girls  had  their  Christmas-tree  last  night,  and  an  unseen 
presence  blessed  the  scene  !" 

It  was  long  before  he  could  take  up  work  again  ;  but  at  last  he  began  his 
translation  of  Uante,  and  in  this  absorbing  occupation  found  some  alleviation 
of  his  sorrow.  His  best  comforters,  however,  were  the  little  group  of  close 
friends  who  met  often  to  criticise  the  work  as  it  proceeded,  and  whose  society 
was  much  enjoyed.  But  soon  these  friends  began  to  fall  by  the  wayside, — first 
Felton,  then  Hawthorne  and  Agassiz,  and  last  his  beloved  friend  Sumner,  to 
whom,  in  the  exquisite  poem,  "Three  Friends  of  Mine,  "  he  thus  bids  farewell: — 

"  Good-night  !  good-night  !  as  we  so  oft  have  said 
Beneath  this  roof  at  midnight,  in  the  days 
That  are  no  more,  and  shall  no  more  return. 
Thou  hast  but  taken  thy  lamp  and  gone  to  bed; 
I  stay  a  little  longer,  as  one  stays 
To  cover  up  the  embers  that  still  burn." 

The  last  years  of  Longfellow's  life  passed  serenely  at  his  home  in  Cam- 
bridge, cheered  by  tokens  of  the  ever-increasing  love  and  honor  u'hich  came  to 
him  from  all  parts  of  the  world.  His  pen  was  not  idle  ;  and  some  of  his  finest 
poems  are  those  written  in  these  closing  years.  In  1882,  at  the  age  of  seventy- 
five,  he  died,  and  was  laid  to  rest  in  the  beautiful  cemetery  of  Mount  Auburn. 


THE    STORY    OK    AMERICAN     LITERATURE. 

BY    HAMILTON   \V.   MAUIK,   1,1.1!.,  I. it.   U. 

^YSTEMATIC  description  of  American  literature  is  impossible. 
Our  best  books  cannot  be  marshaled  into  one  phalanx.  They 
cannot  be  grouped  wholly  by  time,  by  place,  or  by  class  dis- 
tinctions. They  are  the  writings  of  widely  different  times  and 
of  widely  different  places,  if  not  of  different  civilizations.  Our 
colonial  literature  bears  no  resemblance  to  that  which  followed 
the  Revolution,  and  our  present  literature  grows  increasingly  dif- 
ferent  from  either.  The  literature  of  New  England  and  that  of 
California  have  little  in  common,  while  the  literature  of  the  South  is  in  no  sense 
akin  to  that  of  the  North.  Letters  have  always  played  a  subordinate  part  in 
American  life,  and  have  been  under  the  influence,  not  of  one  impulse,  but  of 
many  antagonistic  impulses.  Our  people  are  a  heterogeneous  people,  and 
their  books  constitute  a  heterogeneous  literature. 

In  the  times  of  the  colonies,  men  were  too  busy  in  nation-building  to 
acquire  the  arts  of  book-making.  A  few  adventurers  like  the  brave  gasconadcr, 
John  Smith,  wrote  to  the  Old  Country,  in  a  style  forcible,  but  awkward  and  fre- 
quently incorrect,  graphic  and  highly  imaginative  descriptions  of  the  New  ;  a  few 
painstaking  diarists  detailed,  with  a  minuteness  which  can  now  please  only  the 
antiquarian,  the  daily  vicissitudes  of  the  colonists ;  and,  more  important  than 
either,  a  few  earnest  orators  instilled  a  high-minded  patriotism  into  their  coun- 
trymen's hearts  with  an  eloquence  more  remarkable  for  its  genuineness  of 
conviction  and  ardency  of  feeling  than  for  its  skill  in  argument  or  mastery  of 
language.  But  before  the  Declaration  of  Independence  America  could  boast 
only  three  men  whose  writings,  in  any  way,  deserve  the  jicvj^c  of  literature. 
There  was  John  Woolman,  the  gentle-hearted  Quaker,  like  Izaak  Walton,  a 
tailor,  and  like  him,  also,  a  lover  of  man,  animal,  and  plant.  Although  he  was 
an  irrepressible  reformer,  his  writings  have  none  of  the  pride  of  opinion  and  self- 
righteousness  which  are  the  besetting  sins  of  reformers.  Catholic,  humble, 
receptive,  his  words  are  a  benediction.  Such  Charles  Lamb,  the  purest  and 
manliest  of  modern  English  writers,  found  them,  and  as  such  he  praised  them. 
Of  a  very  different  stamp  was  "one  Mr.  Wordly-Wiseman  "  (as  one  critic  has 

?7  637 


638 


TIIR  STORY  or'  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


we)!  called  him)  Benjamin  I'ranklin.  Well  known  abroad  as  a  statesman,  and 
still  better  as  a  scientist  of  the  first  rank,  he  was  equally  well  known  at  home 
for  his  proverbial  wisdom.  He  had  a  gift  for  putting-  much  prudence  into  few 
words.  His  low  ideals  and  the  self-complacence  which  appear  in  his  autobio- 
graphy do  him  little  credit,  but  as  a  counselor  in  matters  of  expediency  he  was 
much  needed  by  his  excitable,  extravagant,  and  often  over-sanguine  country- 
men.    As  great  as  either,  though  his  writings  are  less  enduring,  was  the  great 

Calvinist  divine,  Jonathan  Edwards.  His  doctrine 
has  been  largely  discarded  since  his  day,  but  there 
was  an  imaginativeness  and  clearness  in  depleting 
it,  a  purity  of  life  and  character  behind  it,  and  a 
devout  mysticism  in  it,  which  make  it  elevating 
reading  to-day.  It  is  a  significant  fact  that  neither  of 
these  three  men,  neither  the  abolitionist,  the  scien- 
tist, nor  the  preacher,  was  primarily  a  writer.  The 
greatest  writers  of  America  have  always  been  some- 
thing more  than  writers.     Irving  and  Motley  were 

diplomats,  Br>'ant  was  a 
journalist.  Holmes  a  phy- 
sician, and  Lowell  had 
something  of  the  states- 
man in  him.  All  of  them 
found  outlets  for  their 
energies  beyond  their 
books.  This  circumstance 
has  given  to  them  a 
breadth  of  view,  a  sense 
of  propordon,  and  a  manly 
reserve  which  wins  the  re- 
spect of  the  reader  and 
instills  in  him  self-respect, 
but  it  has  also  deprived 
them  of  that  intensity,  that 
individuality,  that  surcharge  of  meaning  and  emotion  which  makes  contemporary 
English  books  seem  at  times  like  the  scrolls  of  prophets. 

It  was  not  until  after  the  Revolution  that  American  literature  began  to  take 
on  distinctive  national  traits.  Even  then  they  came  gradually.  In  our  modes  of 
thought  and  expression,  we  grew  away  rather  than  broke  away  from  England. 
George  Washington  was  more  like  an  Englishman  than  like  a  modern  Yankee, 
and  Washington  Irving,  the  earliest  representative  author  of  the  century,  was 
quite  as  truly  a  countryman  of  Addison,  Steele,  and  Goldsmith  as  he  was  of  the 


HAWTHORNE'S   UIRTHl'LACE. 


POST-REVOLUTION  LITERATURE.  6yj 

native  American  farmer  or  the  Dutch  knickerbocker.  In  his  essays  the  spirit 
of  the  eighteenth  century  revived.  He  seemed  to  represent  an  okl  I'^ngland 
rather  than  a  young  America.  He  formed  his  style  after  the  models  of  Queen 
Anne's  day  and  improved  upon  them  in  tlexibility.  Foreign  readers  were 
surprised  to  find  grace  and  melody  in  an  American  book,  and  yot  little  has 
been  written  in  the  English  language  more  graceful  and  melodious,  more 
delicate  in  its  humor,  more  artistic  in  its  moods  and  pictures,  than  the  "  Legend 
of  Sleepy  Hollow."  Since  its  day,  grace  has  become  the  characteristic  virtue 
of  American  essays.  It  was,  however,  in  the  rollicking  extravaganza  of  his 
"  Diedrich  Knickerbocker's  History  of  New  York "  that  Irving's  admirers 
thought  they  detected  the  new  nation's  peculiar  gift  to  letters.  Born  in  New 
York  city,  Irving  had  from  boyhood  roamed  at  will  through  its  woody  environs. 
Though  no  antiquarian,  he  was  familiar  with  those  details  of  its  local  history 
which  could  be  gleaned  only  from  the  traditions  of  the  country-folk.  With 
such  unconscious  training  for  it,  he  wrote  his  wholesome  and  hearty  burlesque 
of  the  phlegmatic  old  Dutch  ancestry  of  the  town.  There  has  been  much 
American  extravaganza  since  his  day,  but  none  of  it,  unless  it  be  Mr. 
Stockton's  fantastic  tales,  deserves  the  name  of  literature.  Quite  as  Americari 
as  either  his  gracefulness  or  his  occasionally  extravagant  spirits  was  the  poetic 
idealism  which  makes  of  his  life  of  Goldsmith  at  once  a  delightful  idyl  and  a 
delicate  interpretation  of  character.  He  found  a  place  for  the  Imagination  in 
biography,  the  aim  of  which,  it  must  be  remembered,  is  primarily  to  depict 
character,  not  to  narrate  vicissitudes.  By  his  very  idealizing  he  gave  his  readers 
a  new  insight  into  Goldsmith's  heart.  Though  It  contains  some  pure  fiction,  his 
volume  has  In  it  much  poetic  truth.  It  must  be  acknowledged,  however,  that 
Irving  had  no  such  power  of  impressing  his  own  personality  on  his  reader  as 
some  of  even  the  gentlest  of  English  writers  have  had.  He  was  lacking  in 
originality  and  personal  force.  But  he  was  pre-eminently  a  gentleman. 
Abroad,  his  courtesy  of  manner,  his  kindness  of  heart,  his  thorough  genuineness 
and  simplicity  of  life  made  him  even  more  welcome  than  his  books,  and  his 
books  were  welcome  everywhere.  The  reputation  of  American  letters  was 
soundly  established  abroad  when  the  great  publisher,  Murray,  offered  him  fifteen 
thousand  dollars  for  the  privilege  of  issuing  one  of  his  productions  In  England, 
and  Campbell,  Jeffrey — the  English  critic  of  the  day, — Moore,  and  Scott  were 
counted  among  his  friends.  The  appointment  of  Irving  as  our  representative 
at  the  Court  of  Madrid  proved  later  a  precedent  for  appointing  such  scholars  as 
Motley,  Bancroft,  and  Lowell  as  foreign  Ministers. 

There  was  no  appearance  of  extravaganza  in  any  of  Irving's  literary  con- 
temporaries In  New  York.  Except  In  the  "Culprit  Fay"  of  Joseph  Rodman 
Drake,  there  was  no  delicate  and  fanciful  Idealism.  But  all  who  versified, 
versified  with  polish.     Not  always  flexible,  seldom  spirited,  never  very  original, 


640 


THE  STORY  OF  AMERICAN  LEfERATURE. 


they  were  uncxccptionably  refined.  They  sedulously  imitated  classical  stand- 
ards. Chaste  diction,  soundness  of  feeling,  and  manly  reserve  combined  to 
make  some  of  Fitz-Greene  Halleck's  poems  perfect  of  their  kind.  Mis  "  Marco 
Bozzaris"  has  deservedly  come  down  to  our  day,  though  only  as  a  school-boy 
classic.  Even  the  fop  of  American  letters,  shallow,  frivolous,  clever  Willis, 
always  wrote  smoothly  and  with  an  air  of  good  breeding.  The  greatest  repre- 
sentative of  this  class  of  poets,  however,  was  William  Cullen  Bryant.  He  was 
born  in  Massachusetts,  but  removed  to  New  York  in  1825,  when  twenty-eight 
years  of  age,  and  a  year  later  became  the  editor  of  the  New  York  Evening 


Post.  His  vocabulary  was  limited  ;  his  poetry  was  frigid.  To  be  stirred  by 
it  is,  in  the  words  of  Lowell,  "like  being  stirred  up  by  the  very  North  Pole."* 
It  had  litde  capacity  for  growth,  and  was  at  its  best  before  the  poet  was  out  of 
his  teens.  But  it  had  great  vir';ues.  Written  in  classic  English,  im]">ued  with 
great  dignity  of  thought  and  feeling,  pervaded  with  what  Wordsworth  has 
called  the  "religion  of  the  woods  '' — the  devout  and  solemn  reverence  for  the 
invisible  powers  of  nature — its  manly  reserve  and  repose  elevated  not  only  his 
countrymen's  ideals  of  literary  excellence,  but  their  ideals  of  life  as  well. 
While  he  lived,  New  York  city,  which  usually  values  only  business  abilities, 

♦James  Russell  Lowell,  "•  Fable  for  Critics." 


RECENT  LITERATURE.  641 

respected  his  three  vocations — that  of  the  poet,  that  of  the  conscientious  and 
constructive  journalist,  and  that  of  the  public  man  who  never  held  office.  This 
last  vocation  has  been  a  characteristic,  if  not  a  peculiarity,  of  our  political  life. 

Although  Bryant  cmtributed  no  such  fund  of  thought  to  American  litera- 
ture as  did  his  New  England  contemporaries,  of  whom  we  mean  to  speak  later, 
his  work  may  be  taken  as  a  type  of  the  epoch  between  the  Revolution  and  the 
Civil  War.  But  since  his  prime  our  writers  have  come  to  a  parting  of  the  ways. 
They  can  no  longer  be  at  once  publicists  and  emulators  of  the  English  classics. 
The  spirit  of  democracy,  the  influence  of  the  masses,  is  now  universally  felt,  even 
though  not  universally  welcomed.  It  is  dividing  our  modern  writers  into  two 
classes,  the  litterateurs,  who  enter  their  studies  as  a  refuge  from  its  noise  and 
self-confident  intolerance,  and  the  popular  sympathizers,  who  enter  their  studies 
as  a  vantage-ground  from  which  they  may  further  popular  aims  and  proclaim 
popular  aspirations.  The  iconoclastic,  self-assertive,  sanguine  characteristics  of 
the  masses  appear,  for  instance,  in  the  disordered  rhythmic  utterances  of  Walt 
Whitman.  The  strength  of  his  lines  is  their  freedom  ;  their  weakness  is  their 
license.  Their  author  is  virile,  but  not  always  rational.  Too  often  he  opens  his 
eyes  wide  with  amazement  at  mere  matters  of  quantity  and  magnitude.  He  makes 
extravagant  claims  for  his  extravagant  muse.  He  does  not  appreciate  delicate 
effects  and  nice  distinctions  of  thought.  He  has  something  of  mob  violence 
about  him,  but  also  much  mob  power  and  vehemence.  He  is  the  pioneer  and 
extreme  of  his  class,  but  certain  of  his  traits  appear,  scattered  and  incidental, 
in  the  work  of  some  of  our  recent  novelists  and  critics.  Mr.  Howells'  novels,  for 
instance,  though  they  are  often  delicate  and  urbane  and  always  conscientious  and 
humanitarian,  are  occasionally  marred  by  a  certain  aggressiveness  of  manner,  at 
times  approaching  swagger,  and  by  crude  treatment  of  the  literary  lientage  of 
the  past.  The  present  generation  has  a  great  conceit  of  its  own  powers,  and 
that  conceit  Mr.  Howells  docs  much  to  cultivate.  It  is  far  too  ignorant  of  the 
heart  thoughts  of  the  past,  and  Mr.  Howells  has  done  much  to  make  that 
ignorance  complacent.  But  among  the  cultured  he  is  a  strenuous  proselyter 
for  popular  thought,  and  deserves  to  be  counted  a  tribune  of  the  people. 

Over  against  Mr.  Howells  must  be  set  the  preeminent  litterateur  of  our 
times,  Mr.  Henry  James.  The  principal  characters  of  his  novels  are  Anglicized 
Americans  of  leisure  ;  his  principal  scenes  arc  European.  He  exercises  in  his 
readers  those  scholastic  qualities  of  mind  to  which  the  great  mass  of  his  readers 
are  supremely  indifferent.  Both  Mr.  Howells  and  Mr.  James,  however,  have 
one  important  characteristic  in  common.  They  believe  that  fiction  should  vig- 
orously reproduce  and  dissect  the  ordinary  phenomena.  They  would  use  neither 
Shakespeare's  dramatic  power  of  compressing  some  great  truth  of  daily  life  into 
little  compass,  nor  Hawthorne's  power  of  gaining  insight  into  the  human  heart 
through  the  use  of  the  supernatural.     They  construct  their  novels  according  to 


642 


THE  STORY  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


an  earnest,  scientific  theory,  antl  so  occasionally  pain  and  perplex  the  reader 
with  problems  for  which  they  offer  no  solution.  They  are  attempting  to  accli- 
matize in  American  letters  foreign  methods  ;  already  they  have  not  a  few  disci- 
ples, but  whether  they  will  finally  succeed  or  not  is  still  an  open  question. 

Superior  to  both  Mr.  Howells  and  Mr.  James  in  versatility,  in  creative 
power,  in  catholicity  of  sympathy,  and  in  insight  into  the  basal  principles  of  art 
and  of  human  nature  is  the  novelist,  Mr.  F.  Marion  Crawford,  though  he  is  their 
inferior  in  conscientiousness  of  purpose,  in  evenness  of  execution,  and  in  deli- 
cacy of  expression.  Mr.  Crawford  is  cosmopolitan.  There  is  hardly  a  country 
of  importance  that  has  not  furnished  him  with  a  scene  for  a  novel,  and  of  every 
country  he  gives  a  view  from  within.     It  is  the  secret,  however,  both  of  Mr. 

Crawford's  power  and  of  his  limitations 
that  he  is  unique  and  stands  outside  the 
line  of  our  literary  development.  He  is 
in  no  sense  a  typical  American  novelist. 
Neither  the  democratic  movement  nor  the 
W'~     ■IBI  JraS^  >'^^%%-     aristocratic  reaction  measurably  affects  him. 

,-«*<•  w.WKi  Mil  Mmmsffit^tA    A  class  even  more  free  from  the  influence 

of  either  current  survives  in  such  writers 
as  "Ike  Marvel,"  Charles  Dudley  Warner, 
and  George  William  Curtis,  who  belong 
to  an  older  school  of  American  essayists 
and  have  the  courtly  graces  of  Irving  with 
the  practical  interests  of  Steele  and  Addi- 
son. Roughly  speaking,  however,  Ameri- 
can literature  may  be  divided  into  three 
■TFv;'^^"''^^^ ^^  periods,  the  colonial,  the  classic,  and  the 
modern  ;  and  this  last  period  is  marked  by 
two  contradictory  forces,  aggressive  democ- 
racy on  the  one  hand  and  the  appearance  of  caste-spirit  on  the  other. 

Thus  far  we  have  treated  chiefly  of  the  literature  of  New  York,  for  it  is  the 
least  provincial,  and  therefore,  in  a  sense,  the  most  representative  of  the  nation 
at  large.  The  so-called  Empire  State,  however,  has  played  but  a  small  part  in 
American  letters  as  compared  with  New  England.  Our  greatest  novelist, 
Hawthorne  ;  our  greatest  orator,  Webster,  and  our  greatest  essayists,  historians, 
and  poets,  are  all  New  Englanders.  The  literature  of  Massachusetts  and  its 
adjacent  States  has  a  flavor  of  its  own.  It  is  always  provincial,  often  narrow, 
occasionally  fanatical,  occasionally  patronizing,  but  its  voice  is  always  the  voice 
of  conscience.  It  is  preeminendy  the  literature  of  the  Puritan.  Its  Webster 
and  its  Wendell  Phillips  appeal  to  the  sense  of  justice  in  their  hearers  and  to 
that  strenuous  desire  to  maintain  their  individual  responsibilities  which  is  the 


K.    WALDU   EMKRSON. 


W H ITT  I ER— LOWELL.  643 

New  Englander's  idea  of  liberty.  Its  Prcscott  and  Motley  trace  not  the 
material,  but  the  moral  proij^rcss  of  the  peoples  whose  development  they 
chronicle.  Its  Hawthorne  dramatizes  the  deepest  problem  of  the  conscience. 
The  themes  of  its  Emerson  are  always  of  natural  reliijion.  Its  Longfellow, 
j-owell,  and  Whittier  look  almost  exclusively  on  the  moral  asi)ects  of  even  litera- 
ture and  romance.  There  is  "  no  art  for  art's  sake"  in  Massachusetts.  We 
can  never  "escape  from  the  diocese  of  a  strict  conscience."  No  book  furnishes 
mere  amusement  or  recreation.  The  sense  of  duty  sometimes  inspires  the  New 
Ensj^lander  with  eloquence,  sometimes  elicits  the  beauties  of  mystical  imaorina- 
tion  sometimes  presents  itself  in  a  play  of  wit,  as  in  the  Higlow  Papers  of 
James  Russell  Lowell,  sometimes  is  made  almost  winsome,  as  in  the  poems  of 
Longfellow,  but  it  is  never  totally  ftjrgotten. 

New  Englander  of  New  luiglanders  is  the  Quaker  poet  of  Massachusetts, 
John  Greenleaf  Whitder.  Although  not  a  Puritan,  he  is  the  most  typical  of 
the  New  England  poets.  His  early  life  was  that  of  a  farmer's  boy,  and  his 
poems  are  full  of  farm  scenes  and  homestead  incidents.  His  "Snow  Bound" 
pictures  the  cheer  within  and  the  cold  without  of  a  New  England  winter.  He 
makes  graphic  the  sturdy  qualities  of  the  old  New  England  settlers.  The 
reminiscences  of  his  early  days,  picturing,  as  they  do,  a  stalwart  human  nature, 
confirm  the  conscience  of  his  readers  against  present  temptations.  His  rhymes 
are  often  faulty,  his  metre  sometimes  rough,  his  spirit  too  surcharged  with  local 
feeling  to  be  called  national,  his  verse  falls  just  short  of  inspiradon,  but  what 
he  has  added  to  the  moral  worth  of  American  letters  is  invaluable.  He  has 
given  to  American  poetry  a  dignity  of  its  own — the  dignity  of  unaffected  but 
undaunted  manhood.  A  poet  of  conscience,  courage,  and  fervor  is  sure  to 
do  earnest  work  in  the  world,  and  Whittier  was  among  the  first  to  throw  himself 
into  the  anti-slavery  cause.  His  anti-slavery  poems,  Quaker  though  he  is,  ring 
with  a  mardal  vigor.  He  has  never  made  any  peace  with  sin.  Yet  with  all 
his  warmth  of  temperament,  often  waxing  hot  with  indignation,  he  has  also 
that  benignity,  that  gentleness,  that  purity  of  motive,  that  sense  of  peace  which 
belong  to  the  disciples  of  the  "  Society  of  Friends."  He  is  the  representa- 
tive poet  of  his  fellow  Christians  as  well  as  of  his  State.  His  poems  breathe 
the  religious  spirit. 

The  anti-slavery  cause  had  an  advocate  of  a  very  different  temperament, 
but  quite  as  earnest  and  quite  as  poetic,  in  James  Russell  Lowell.  It  was  the 
love  of  letters,  not  the  love  of  the  muse,  which  first  started  him  on  his  literary  career. 
He  was  in  his  early  tastes  primarily  a  critic.  To  careless  readers  his  earliest 
poems  seemed  die  work  of  a  dainty  and  graceful  amateur,  and  gave  no  promise 
of  his  future  powers.  His  gift  of  criticism,  his  love  of  verbal  by-play,  his  enjoy- 
ment and  mastery  of  the  lighter  veins  in  literature  he  did  not  lose  as  he  grew 
older,  and  showed  his  ability  as  well  to  encounter  the  dangers  and  responsibilities 


644 


THE  STORY  OF  AM/iKICAX  UriiRATURE. 


of  active  American  citizcnsliiij  and  energetic  public  life.  He  was  the  most 
scholarly  and  most  original  of  AiiKTican  critics  to  the  end.  Familiar  with  all  the 
literatures  of  Europe,  ancient  and  inod(-rn,  at  home  in  all  the  by-paths  of  English 
letters,  he  was  yet  no  pedant  and  no  traditionalist.  He  seemed  to  enter  as  an 
equal  the  Elysium  of  the  poets.  He  was  so  keen  and  appreciative  an  observer 
of  every  aspect  of  nature  that  Charles  Darwin  said  that  he  was  born  to  be  a 
naturalist.  He  was  so  alive  to  the  world  of  to-day,  that  another  friend  early 
prophesied  of  him  that  "he  would  never  dally  with  his  muse  when  he  could 
invite  her  aid  in  the  cause  of  the  oppressed  and  suffering."  His  literary  essays 
revivified  whatever  they  touched  upon,  because  they  themselves  were  vital  with 
the  modern  spirit.     His  earnestness  never  prevented  him  from  enjoying  the 

quaint  charms  of  the  past.  He  would  not 
have  been  so  great  a  critic,  however,  had 
he  not  been  much  more  than  a  critic. 
Even  though  his  powers  of  e.xecution  were 
not  equal  to  his  powers  of  conception,  he 
was  a  genuine  poet.  "  He  has  the  eye 
and  mind  of  a  poet,"  says  one  critic,  "but 
wants  the  plastic  touch  which  turns  to 
shape  the  forms  of  things  unknown."  In 
his  verse  there  was  much  poetry,  though  it 
was  often  in  the  rough.  He  was  some- 
times careless.  He  was  sometimes  so 
clever  as  to  seem  forced,  and  he  was 
sometimes  forced  without  being  at  all 
clever.  Hut  his  "  Commemoration  Ode," 
his  "Cathedral,"  and  his  "Vision  of  Sir 
Launfal,"  not  to  mention  many  minor 
poems,  are  full  of  poetic  beauty  and  strong 
with  poetic  truth.  It  was  the  shame  of  slavery,  however,  that  kindled  his 
powers  into  flame.  It  was  characteristic  of  his  Yankee  blood  that  he  used  not 
mere  argument  as  his  weapon,  but  wit  and  conscience  fused  by  his  hot  indigna- 
tion into  a  blade  as  keen  as  Damascus  steel.  His  "  Biglow  Papers  "  are  the 
keenest,  the  most  racial,  the  most  national  of  all  American  satires.  The  first  of 
■them  appeared  in  1846.  In  its  Yankee  hero,  concealing  not  one  drop  of  his 
Y'ankee  blood,  abating  not  one  jot  of  his  Yankee  pride  or  Yankee  manners,  and 
softening  by  not  one  touch  his  Yankee  wit,  appeared  a  new  figure  in  American 
life.  It  was  a  figure  around  which  the  Puritan  elements  of  the  community  could 
rally.  Lowell  had  awakened  the  dormant  conscience  of  the  nation.  He  fiercely 
ridiculed  the  hypocrisies  and  glossed-over  selfishness  of  the  slave-power  and  the 
still  more  contemptible  cowardice  of  tlie  silent  and  the  "prudent"  in  the  North. 


WALT.   WHITMAN. 


LONCFIiU.O]]'.  645 

He  fairly  defied  ridicule  in  return,  for  what  the  drawl  and  dialect  of  his  hero  could 
not  make  ridiculous  nothing  could  make  ritiiculous.  To-day  its  wit  still  retains 
its  freshness,  and  its  satire  of  pretentiousness,  demagogy,  and  false  standards 
of  honor  in  American  politics  has  unfortunately  not  lost  its  seasonableness.  His 
"  Fable  for  Critics,"  a  running  comment  of  clever,  good-natured,  unfinished 
epigrams  on  his  literary  contemporaries,  showed  Lowell  to  be  a  wit,  but  his 
"  Biglow  Papers"  showed  him  to  be  a  genius  and  not  a  little  of  a  statesman. 
In  the  words  of  George  William  Curtis,  literature  was  Lowell's  pursuit,  but 
patriotism  was  his  passion.  He  was  the  more  patriotic  diat  he  never  fought 
over  old  battles.  He  was  too  busy  fighting  new  ones  for  that.  Sent  as  our 
Minister  to  England,  he  represented  us  abroad  courteously  but  unswervingly, 
nor  concealed  for  a  moment  his  faith  in  the  republican  constitution  and 
democratic  principles  of  his  native  country.  If  occasionally  a  democratic  self- 
assertiveness  mars  the  general  dignity  of  his  writings,  it  marks  him  as  the  more 
typically  a  modern  Americai..  No  other  writer  represents  so  many  and  so 
varied  phases  of  American  life  as  does  this  wit,  gentleman,  publicist,  critic, 
scholar,  and  poet. 

LONGFEI.l.oW. 

More  representative  of  American  poetry,  though  not  of  American  life,  than 
Lowell,  and  more  national  than  W'hittier,  and  more  popular  than  either,  is  our 
household  poet,  Longfellow.  Originality  of  thought  has  not  been  a  notable 
characteristic  of  American  poetry,  and  Longfi;llow  was  not  markedly  original. 
But  what  he  lacked  in  originality  he  supplied  with  scholarship.  He  was  versed  in 
both  the  Xorse  and  the  Romance  languages  and  literatures.  His  mind  was 
stored  with  poetic  traditions.  He  popularized  the  literary  heritage  of  Europe. 
Clearness  of  thought,  precise  perception,  transparent  expression,  thatdefiniteness 
and  accuracy  which  give  force,  have  not  been  notable  characteristics  of  Amer- 
ican poetry,  and  Longfellow  often  wrote  vaguely  because  he  saw  vaguely.  At 
times  he  lacked  definite  meaning,  though  the  sense  of  the  hearers  is  dulled  to 
the  loss  by  the  pleasant  sound  of  his  verse.  But  his  words  are  always  gracious, 
gentle,  manly,  unsophisticated,  melodious,  and  full  of  catholicity  and  content- 
ment. They  are  written  to  comfort  the  sorrowing,  to  give  courage  to  the  toil- 
ing, or  to  add  happiness  to  the  youthful.  The  moods  which  he  evolves  from  his 
readers  are  tranquil,  innocent,  reverent,  purifying.  American  readers,  living  as 
they  do  in  the  stress  of  competition,  with  little  in  their  lives  to  give  rest  to  their 
eyes  or  satisfaction  to  their  aesthetic  nature,  turn  to  poetrj'  not  .so  much  for 
truths  as  for  beauty.  .Since  life  furnishes  them  with  vigor,  but  with  little  that  is 
delicate  or  graceful,  they  treasure  most  in  poetry,  ease,  dignity,  simplicity, 
chasteness  of  diction,  the  quiet  (low  of  sound  on  sound  and  mood  on 
mood.  .Such  qualities  they  find  in  this  scholarly  laureate  of  the  people.  Though 
L,ongfellow  is  the  favorite  poet  of  young  girlhood,  womanhood  and  the  home, 


646 


THE  STORY  OF  AM/iRfC/LY  LITllRATURE. 


there  is  no  sentimentality  and  no  melancholy  in  his  personality.  His  pastorals 
are  full  of  picturesque  figures  of  speech,  and  are  imbued  with  a  love  of  nature 
and  ai^f^enial  love  of  man.  The  poet  has  done  much  to  create  amony-  his  coun- 
trymen a  love  of  European  literature  and  to  instill  the  beginnings  of  what  may 
prove  a  mellowing  culture,  while,  in  his  Hiawatha  and  Evangeline,  he  has  given 
to  the  world  two  classics,  distinctively  American. 

There  is  a  certain  barrenness  to  the  eye  in  plain  American  life,  which  we 
lose  sight  of  when  enjoying  the  scholarship  and  poetic  imaginations  of  Long- 
fellow. The  same  sense  of  barrenness,  his  friend  and  contemporary,  Ralph 
Waldo  Emerson,  the  "philosopher  of  Concord,"  relieves  in  a  characteristically 
different  way.      He  gratifies  and   charms   his   readers   wiili   the  beauties  of  ai 

idealistic,  vague  and  pantheistic  philo- 
sophy, surcharged  with  his  own  poetic  and 
imaginative  individuality.  His  idealism 
was  often  curiously  inappropriate  to  his 
circumstances  and  surroundings.  There 
was  an  impervious  self-complacence  in  his 
writings  which  gave  to  them  that  gravity 
and  that  appearance  of  wisdom  and  author- 
ity vv'hich  are  characteristic  of  the  Oriental 
seer.  He  was  sometimes  superficial,  but 
never  flippant.  He  never  argued ;  he 
never  even  unfolded  truths ;  he  formu- 
lated and  declared  ex  cathedra  dogmas, 
and  gathered  together,  without  sequence 
or  system,  a  number  of  apposite  apoth- 
egms in  a  sino-le  theme.  In  common  with 
Longfellow,  he  was  often  led  to  say  what 
sounded  well  and  meant  little,  but  unlike 
Longfellow  he  was  seldom  commonplace  at  once  in  manner  and  matter. 
Although  no  writer  is  in  reality  more  provincial  than  Emerson,  no  writer 
has  such  a  semblance  of  superiority  to  all  prejudices  of  race,  nation,  religion, 
and  home  training  as  he.  But  if  there  was  much  that  was  factitious  in  Emer- 
son, there  was  also  much  that  was  genuine.  He  had  at  times  an  illuminating 
insighL  into  the  heart.  His  essays  are  elevating  and  suggestive.  He  was 
gifted  with  great  powers  of  imagination.  His  severity  had  its  source  in  his  inner- 
most character,  antl  was  more  (effectual  against  the  storms  of  life  than  was  the 
stoicism  of  the  Romans,  or  the  light-hcadedness  of  the  Greeks.  He  was  so  free 
from  all  worldliness  in  motives  or  in  tastes  that  he  seemed  immaculate.  He  had 
that  courage  in  his  faiths  which  only  purity  can  give.  He  11-  jd  as  in  another 
world.    If  not  quite  the  seer  he  purports  to  be,  he  was  unquestionably  a  genius, 


LOWELL. 


HA  \ VTHORXE— MINOR  XO 1 7:L /S  7'S.  647 

But  far  qreatcr  in  t]^enius  than  the  itlcalist  F.merson  was  the  mystic  and 
recluse,  Nathaniel  Hawthorne.  His  actual  lite  was  of  the  simplest.  He  was 
born  in  quaint  Salem,  Massachusetts,  in  1804;  he  j^raduateil  from  l>ow(loin 
ColleL,''e,  held  in  the  course  of  his  car(>er  two  political  offices,  shunned  [)ublicity 
and  wrote  novels  which  met  at  the  time  with  no  remarkable  sale.  Hut  from  this 
sim[)le  career  came  the  weirdest,  most  imas^inative  and  most  profound  tales  in 
American,  if  not  in  all  Ani^do-Sa.xon  literature.  His  novels  are  essentially 
Puritan.  Their  scenes,  their  men  and  women,  their  weird  traditions,  their 
sombre  creeds  are  unmistakably  native  to  New  Ensrland,  though  to  a  New 
England  under  the  spell  of  the  supernatural.  In  his  own  neighborhood,  he 
found  enough  to  feed  his  love  of  antiquity  and  of  the  legendary.  His  novtils 
imbue  the  reader  with  a  reverential  awe  for  the  Puritan  fathers.  No  cavalier  in 
Scott's  novels  ever  seemed  more  romantic  than  do  the  stern  and  gloomy 
Calvinists  of  the  "  Scarlet  Letter  "  and  the  "  House  of  Seven  Gables,"  Tales 
of  witchcraft,  of  ill-starred  lovers,  of  hereditary  taints,  of  sin  and  its  awful 
consequences,  fascinated  Hawthorne,  and  under  his  artistry  became  often 
fantastic,  occasionally  morbid,  but  always  impressive.  Never  avoiding' 
provincialism,  he  was  always  something  more  than  provincial,  for  his  themes 
dealt  with  human  problems  of  universal  significance.  Unlike  most  mystics 
his  style  was  transparently  clear  and  exceedingly  graceful.  In  those  delicate, 
varied  and  impalpable  but  permanent  effects  which  are  gained  by  a  happy 
arrangemen';  of  words  in  their  sentences,  no  modern  writer  surpasses  him,  while 
no  American  writer  equals  him  in  that  unerring  directness  and  unswerving 
force  which  come  from  the  exact  use  of  words.  To  the  rhetorician,  his  style  is 
a  stutly  ;  to  the  lay  reader  a  delight  that  eludes  analysis.  There  is  also  much 
humor  and  satire  in  Hawthorne,  so  delicate  as  to  escap  he  observation  of  the 
careless  and  the  obtuse. 

MINOR    NOVELISTS. 

That  the  love  of  mystery,  which  found  its  perfect  expansion  in  Hawthorne, 
was  something  of  a  national  art,  not  merely  a  personal  trait,  is  evident  after 
reading  the  crude,  but  effective  and  highly  original  tales  of  our  first  American 
novelist,  Charles  Prockden  Brown,  who  wrote  impossible  hut  impassioned 
stories  of  the  supernatural  and  pseudo-supernatural.  Edgar  Allan  Poe,  a  much 
better  known  writer  of  the  same  school,  delighted  in  working  out  the  horrible 
fancies  of  his  brain  in  graphic  and  o(um  artistic  forms.  His  tales  suffer,  how- 
ever, from  their  total  lack  of  moral  substance.  It  is  a  ;;ignificant  fact,  testifying, 
possibly  to  the  sense  of  freedom  and  therefore  the  contentment  which  our  national 
writers  feel,  that  Poe  was  the  only  American  author  of  any  prominence  to  wreck 
his  happiness  and  his  character  from  sheer  perversity  and  love  of  extravagance. 
He  was  the  only  one  in  this  country  to  lling  himself  as  did  Marlowe,  P)yron,  and 
many  others  in  England,  so  willfully  against  the  conventional  standards  of  his 


648 


THE  STORY  OF  AMERICAN  LTTERATURE. 


environment  as  to  destroy  himself.  His  plots  are  so  sensational  and  his  dra- 
matic efforts  so  bold  and  unnatural  that  we  seldom  gwv,  their  autlior  sufficient 
credit  for  his  polished  and  careful  workmanship.  Though  there  was  a  certain 
flashiness  in  his  art  which  cheapens  it,  he  was  both  an  artist  and  a  genius. 
"There  comes  Poe,"  says  Lowell,  in  his  "  Fable  for  Critics," 

"  Willi  his  raven,  like  liarnaby  Riidge, 
Three-fifths  of  him  genius,  and  two-fifths  sheer  fudge." 

A  romancist  of  a  very  different  type  was  James  Fenimore  Cooper,  some- 
times diffuse  and  sometimes  stilted,  but  more  frequently  an  e.xciting  narrator  of 
Indian  tales  and  pioneer  adventures.    The  power  of  his  stories  is  due  not  to  any 

noticeable  gifts  of  style  or  to  any 
remarkable  originality  or  profimdity 
of  thought,  but  to  the  wild  prairie 
life  or  as  wild  sea  life  which  they 
minutely  depict,  and  to  the  roman- 
tic types  of  Indian,  trapper  and 
sailor,  which  they  have  created. 
They  are  written  in  an  honest, 
hearty  and  patriotic  spirit,  and  the 
"Spy,"  the  "Pilot,"  and  the 
"  Leather-Stocking  Tales  "  are  still 
the  delight  of  boys.  Manly  tales 
;,'  of  pure  adventure  are  rare  in 
American  literature.  Our  romance 
is  usually  didactic,  sentimental, 
supernatural  or  retrospective.  Di- 
dactic romance  has  attained  its  best 
expression  and  gained  the  greatest 
results  in  the  "  L'ncle  Tom's  Cabin," 
of  Mrs.  Harriet  Beecher  Stowe — a  tale  full  of  dramatic  situations,  written  with 
Yankee  directness  and  Puritan  sympathy  for  the  oppressed,  and  by  its  very  bias 
and  idealism  of  invaluable  service  to  the  anti-Slaver)'  cause.  Pathetic  romance 
is  best  typified  by  the  Ramona  of  Mrs.  Helen  Hunt  Jackson — a  tale  full  of 
poetic  insight  as  well  as  of  poetic  beauty,  in  behalf  of  the  Indian.  Its  author 
is  the  greatest  representative  of  a  large  school  of  modern  writers,  characterized 
by  extreme  sensitiveness,  artistic  perception,  poetic  aspirations  and  a  somewhat 
sentimental  but  a  very  genuine  love  for  ihe  suffering  and  the  oppressed.  'Hieir 
chief  fault  is,  that  while  they  soften  the  heart  they  never  invigorate  the  will. 

It  is  to  the  South  that  we  must  turn  for  the  best  examples  of  retrospective 
romance.     Idealizing  has  always  been  the  Southerner's  peculiar  gift ;  in  the  com- 


LOUISA   MAY   Al.COTT. 
{A/tt'r  a  I'liMrgraph  by  Notiiuin^  Boston.) 


THE  LITERATURE  OE  THE  SOC'Tfl  AXD  WEST  649 

paratively  successful  days  before  the  war,  it  usually  ran  into  bombast  and  grand- 
iloquence, but  the  disasters  of  invasion  and  conquest  have  subdued  it  to  the 
pastoral,  the  pathetic,  the  retrospective.  In  the  days  of  slavery  politics  absorbed 
all  the  best  energies  and  intellect  of  the  South,  but  since  the  days  of  reconstruc- 
tion, more  than  one  Southerner  of  promise  has  found  in  literature  an  attractive 
career.  In  a  number  of  short  dialect  stories  of  plantation  days,  as  well  as  in  the 
tender,  musical,  visionary  poems  of  Sidney  Lanier,  the  South  has  contributed 
new  and  artistic  elements  to  American  literature.  Indeed,  the  South  is  the  home 
of  our  most  characteristic  short  stories.  The  typical  Southerner  is  still  imbued 
with  an  intense  local  patriotism.  Every  village  under  his  native  skies  is  a  little 
world  to  him.  He  finds  compacted  within  its  narrow  limits  many  a  theme  for  a 
brief  romance,  full  of  human  interest.  The  romance  of  its  vicissitudes  in  war. 
the  romance  of  its  love  scenes — where  love  is  still  looked  upon  as  the  grand 
passion — the  pathos  of  the  disasters  it  suffered  in  the  South's  defeat,  and  the 
quaint  humor  of  its  colored  folk,  make  a  union  of  elements  favorable  to  the 
story-teller's  art.  The  South  has  produced  at  least  two  authors  to  do  justice  to 
these  gifts  of  circumstance.  Mr.  Thomas  Nelson  Page  depicts  in  his  pages 
the  South  before  the  war.  Under  his  hand,  an  idealizing  regret  beautifies  the 
past  till  it  seems  a  golden  age.  A  half  vicarious  boastfulness,  a  meagre 
achievement  and  a  genuine  poetic  aspiration  blend  in  the  true  Southerner's  tem- 
perament. Mr.  Page  has  nothing  of  the  boastfulness  ;  he  seldom,  if  ever, 
depicts  the  meagre  externals,  but  he  does  exquisite  justice  to  the  poetic  aspira- 
tions of  his  countrymen.  His  tales  are  pathetic,  romantic,  picturesque,  catholic, 
and  toward  both  races  sympathetic  and  appreciative.  Of  very  different  tem- 
perament is  his  compeer,  Mr.  Joel  Chandler  Harris.  Mr.  Harris's  sketches  are 
artistically  true,  not,  as  is  the  case  with  Mr.  Page,  because  they  reveal  the  aspi- 
rations of  the  old-time  Southern  temperament,  but  because  of  their  author's 
alert  observations  of  life  as  it  is-  He  is  alive  with  a  vitality  which  makes  for 
cheerfulness,  quickness,  deftness,  appreciativeness.  Though  he  deals  with  a 
passing,  if  not  a  past,  civilization,  he  looks  back  to  it  neither  regretfully,  nor 
inimlcally,  nor  indifferently.  He  even  goes  to  it  for  invigoration.  Though  there 
is  pathos  in  his  stories,  they  are  full  of  hope  and  freshness  of  life.  On  the  one 
hand  he  does  not  touch  such  deep  chords  as  does  Mr.  Page  ;  on  the  other,  he 
is  more  vivacious  and  stimulating. 

Successful  studies  in  provincial  life,  however,  are  not  limited  to  the  South, 
Every  distinctive  region  in  the  United  States  can  claim  its  distinctive  literature. 
To-day  Miss  Wilkins  and  Miss  Jcwett,  of  a  decade  or  so  ago,  Saxe  Holme,  and 
to  go  back  much  earlier,  Hawthorne,  are  the  names  which  naturally  occur  to  us, 
when  we  turn  to  New  England.  Of  these.  Miss  'W'ilkins'  painstaking  and  often 
painfully  conscientious  sketches  are  the  most  trustworthy,  though  not  always 
the  pleasantest  depictions  of  Puritan  manners,   customs,  and  habits  of  utter- 


650 


TIIR  STORY  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


ance.  Not  only  to  the  nieai^rc,  ri_L,ncl  and  self-repressive  lives  of  these 
villay^e  Calvinists,  iMit  as  well  to  their  earnest  purposes,  their  loyal  consecra- 
tion to  duty  and  their  genuine  reverence  for  the  home,  the  church  and  the 
state,  Miss  Wilkins  is  just.  Her  studies — stories  they  can  hardly  be  called — 
are  perhaps  works  of  science  rather  than  works  of  art,  but  in  either  case,  they 
are  literature. 

That  cosmopolitan  New  York  should  furnish  material  for  the  same  scien- 
tific study  in  provincialism  would  seem  to  involve  a  contradiction  in  terms.     Yet 


^^%s=^ 


^^m^^m^^'-' 


wiirniiiR  b  muriiPLACE. 


that  city  has  an  individuality  of  its  own,  difficult  as  it  is  to  depict.  Mr.  Janvier 
has  done  somethin;^-  for  its  art  studios  and  its  French  colonies.  Mr.  Howells, 
in  his  "Hazard  of  New  Fortunes,"  has  done  somethino-  for  its  streets  and 
houses,  but  it  is  to  Mr.  Hamlin  Garland  and  to  Mr.  Richard  Harding  Davis 
that  we  are  indebted  for  the  introduction  of  typical  New  Yorkers  to  Ameri- 
can readers.  Hach,  in  his  different  view,  gives  a  hint  of  the  literary  possibil- 
ities to  be  found  in  what  has  heretofore  seemed  commonplace  New  York,  hi 
Mr.  Eugene  Field's  grotesque  commingling  of  New  England  reminiscence,  the 
love  of  exaggeration  to  be  found  all  over  the  western  plains,  and  the  quips  of 


AMERICAX  HUMOR— AMIiRICAX  IIISTORJAXS.  65 1 

humor  and  turns  of  tenderness  which  arc  closely  associated  with  the  Pacific 
coast,  we  find  writins^-  ap[)ropriate  to  Chicat^o,  while  further  west,  Arkansas 
finds  utterance  in  the  sympathetic  studies  of  Octave  ThaiUit,  The  c:arly  min- 
ing excitement  of  the  Californian  coast  had  its  own  peculiar  literature 
in  the  racy  sketches  of  Bret  1  iarte — a  skillful  pupil  of  Dickens  in  his 
mingled  humor  and  pathos,  grotesqueness  and  idealism,  and  in  his  depiction  of 
acts  of  gentleness  in  lives  of  hardship.  His  pictures  of  mining-life,  however, 
have  in  them  an  originality  which  makes  him  something  more  tlian  a  mere 
pupil.     He  has  made  a  distinct,  though  a  provincial  contribution  to  letters. 

Outside  of  these  sketches  there  is  little  genuine  humor  in  American  litera- 
ture. We  have  many  writers  of  extravagant  burlesque  ;  we  have  in  I^r.  01i\  er 
Wendell  Holmes  a  kindly,  brilliant,  scintillating,  suggestive  wit ;  but  we  can 
find  nowhere  in  American  letters  that  delicate  and  quizzical  self-revelation,  that 
pathetic  oddness,  those  fantastically  expressed  confidences,  those  self-amused 
idiosyncracies  which  constitute  humor  and  which  tlavored  the  conversations  of 
Abraham  Lincoln.  There  is  a  reserve  in  American  writers  which  prevents  such 
humor.  To  find  it  we  must  go  to  the  English  Charles  Lamb,  Thomas  I'uller, 
and  Sir  Thomas  Browne.  Few  nations,  however,  have  produced  any  wittier 
books  than  Dr.  Holmes'  Breakfast  Table  Series,  or  more  laughable  extrava- 
gances than  Mark  Twain's,  while  more  quiet  and  more  graceful,  though  less 
original  than  either,  are  the  shorter  sketches  of  Charles  Dudley  Warner  and 
"Ike  Marvel." 

Scieniific  observation  and  poetic  insight  united  in  Thoreau  to  give  him  a 
familiar  acquaintance  with  the  shy  beauties  of  nature.  His  writings  are  marred 
by  infelicities  ;.nd  affectations  in  expression,  but  they  are  the  work  of  a  genuine 
lover  and  interpreter  of  the  woods  and  streams.  He  is  the  master  in  a  scIkjoI 
which  includes  an  increasing  number  of  writers  every  decade. 

At  least  those  American  historians,  Prescott,  Parkman,  and  Modey,  have 
gained  a  transatlantic  reputation  for  the  eloquence  of  their  style,  the  beauty  of 
their  description,  and  the  artistic  power  of  their  presentations  of  historic 
movements.  All  three  were  careful  scholars,  though  idealists,  vigorous,  and 
clear  writers,  and  sanguine  Americans.  To  those  at  all  seriously  inclined  their 
histories  are  as  absorbing  as  fiction,  and,  if  too  enthusiastic  to  be  accurate  in 
all  their  details,  are  unquestionably  true  in  general  outline.  They  ha\(.'  made 
use  of  the  imagination  as  an  aid  to  scholarship,  not  as  a  substitute  for  it,  and 
they  have  used  it  chietly,  if  not  solely,  to  elucidate  truth. 

There  is  nothing  in  oratory  more  profoundly  eloquent  than  the  two  addresses 
of  Abraham  Lincoln  on  the  field  of  Gettysburg.  They  are  the  simple  and 
devout  expressions  of  a  national  patriotism,  [)urged  of  all  worldly  passion.  The 
chasteness,  the  harmony,  the  marvelous  beauty  of  their  language  is,  however, 
forgotten  in  the  sublimer  beauty  of  their  thought  and  spnnt.     They  are  so  sacred 


652 


THE  STORY  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


to  somcthinq-  high(;r  than  literature  that  we  never  thhik  of  them  as  literature. 
The  clear  and  animatin-j^  orations  of  the  chivalric,  visionary  Wendell  Phillips 
deserve  a  passing'-  mention  for  their  beauty  of  form  and  transparency  of 
artrument.  But  our  one  crreat  orator  is  the  Whiii:  statesman,  Daniel  Webster. 
He  was  educated  in  New  Hampshire,  under  that  vigorous  discipline  which  only 
the  hardships  of  poverty  can  give,  and  showed  the  value  of  his  training  in  the 
stalwartness  of  his  after-life,  when  he  stood  for  a  conscientious  adherence  to  the 

Union  and  to  the  Constitution 
liberally  interpreted.  To  this 
day,  his  sonorous,  significant, 
and  impressive  utterances 
must  be  studied  for  any 
thorough  appreciation  of  the 
responsibilities  of  American 
citizenship  and  the  genius  of 
American  institutions.  \\y 
his  inherent  dignity  he  long 
maintained  against  the  en- 
croachments of  the  modern 
politician  our  forefathers' 
standard  of  dignity  in  Ameri- 
can public  life.  Unquestion- 
ably the  inferior  of  the  great 
English  statesman,  Edmund 
Burke,  in  beauties  of  imagi- 
nation, precision  and  incisive- 
ness  of  language,  and  in 
profundity  of  statesmanshii), 
he  was  at  least  more  smooth, 
more  even,  and  more  self- 
controlled. 
The  contrast  between  the  two  well  illustrates  the  contrast  between 
England  and  America  in  every  department  of  literature.  The  typical  English 
writer  shows  the  greater  mastery  of  the  powers  and  striking  beauties  of 
language.  The  American  is  the  smoother  and  the  more  pol'shed.  The 
English  is  the  more  intense,  and  the  more  self-expressive,  and  the  more 
powerful ;  the  American  the  more  guarded  and  the  more  contented.  America 
has  produced  as  yet  no  literature  comparable  to  the  greater  classics  of  England, 
but  she  has  produced  much  worthy  to  be  found  in  every  Anglo-Saxon  house- 
hold, and  capable  of  cheering  and  strengthening  in  his  work  and  hardships 
every  Anglo-Saxon  reader. 


WII.IIAM   CTLI.KN   HRYANT. 
{Froift  a  Vhotosraph  by  Sarotiy^  AV70  York.) 


FAMOUS  AMERICAN  AUTHORS. 


WASHINGTON   IRVING, 

AUTHOR  OF   THE   "SKhTCH    BOOK," 


IRVING,  one  of  the  first  authors  to 
make?  a  real  American  literature, 
was  born  in  New  York  in  17S3.  In 
consequence  of  delicate  health  he 
sjxMit  much  of  his  jouth  in  luu'o- 
pean  travel.  In  1809  he  published 
his  famous  "  Knickerbocker's  I  lis- 
tory  of  New  York,"  which  had 
great  success.  Hut  it  is  by  his 
"Sketch  Hook,"  published  in  1819, 
that  \u-  will  be  longest  remembered. 
Rip  \'an  Winkle  and  his  twenty 
years'  sleep,  the  amorous  school- 
master and  the  Headless  Horse- 
man of  Sleepy  Hollow,  are  charac- 
ters which  live  forever  immortal. 
This  book,  although  published  in 
America,  was  written  in  England, 
where  Irving  was  then  living,  en- 
joying th(^  pleasures  of  intimate 
friendship  with  Sir  Walter  Scott, 
Campbell,  and  the  most  famous 
English  writers  of  the  time.  Syd- 
ney Smith's  famous  taunt,  "Who  reads  an  American  book?"  lost  its  truth 
and  its  sting  after  the  ".Sketch  Hook"  came  from  America  to  charm  and 
capti\ate  the  reading  world  of  F^ngland.  John  Murray,  the  famous  linglish 
publisher,  paid  Irving  large  sums  for  that  book  and  for  "  Hracebridge  Hall  " 
and  ihe  "Tales  of  a  Traveler,"  which  followed  it.  There  is  a  story  th,;it 
while  Irving  w-as  at  the  height  of  his  popularity  in  Flngland,  two  women  were 
overheard  in  conversation  before  a  bust  of  Washington  in  an  art  gallery. 
"Who  was  Washington,  mother?"  asked  the  younger.  "Why,  my  dear, 
don't  you  know?"  was  the  reproving  reply  ;  "he  wrote  the  '.Sketch  Hook.'  " 
In  1826  Irving  went  to  Spain,  occupying  for  some  time  a  suite  of  rooms  in  the. 

3^  65;,  ^ 


WASHINGTON    IRVING. 


654 


IVASJl/NGTON  JKllXG. 


famous  old  Moorish  palace  f)f  the  AlhanilM'a.  While  there  he  wrote  his  "Life 
of  Columbus,"  the  "  Concpu-'st  of  (iranada,"  and  the  "Alhambra"  tales,  all  of 
which  had  j^reat  success.  In  1S32  lu;  returni;d  to  America,  and  settled  at  his 
country  seat,  "Sunnyside,"  on  the  Hudson,  near  Tarrytown.     This  lovely  home 

soon  became  th(;  rt-sort  of 
the  foremost  literary  and 
public    men    of   America. 


A  line  H    HorsKUOI.D,  AS    DF.SCRIDKH 
lY    "  KMCKKRliOCKKR." 


Irxintr  was  a  most  charm- 
in(;  host,  and  was  never 
more  in  his  element  than 
n'hen  surrounded  by  appreciative  and  responsive  friends.  In  1842,  at  the  su.l;- 
gestion  of  Uaniel  Webster,  he  was  appointed  by  President  Tyler  minister  to 
Spain,  where  he  spent  four  years,  returning  in  1846  to  his  beloved  Sunnyside, 
where  he  lived  until  his  death  in  November,  1859. 


/  /  7Z [JAM  CI  1. 1. /: A'  HR  \  ANT. 


655 


"  Irviiifj  was  as  quaint  a  t"iij;-iirc;,"  says  GeorL^c  W.  Curtis,  "as  Diedrich 
Knickerbocker  himself,  .  .  .  tripping'  with  elastic  step  along  liroadway,  with 
low-quartered  shoes,  neatly  tied,  and  a  Talma  cloak,' — a  short  garment  that  hung 
from  his  should(!rs  like  the  cajjc  of  a  coat.  There  was  a  chirping,  cheery,  old- 
school  air  in  his  appearance,  which  was  undeniably  Dutch,  and  most  harmonious 
with  the  associations  of  his  own  writings.  He  seemeil,  indeed,  to  have  stepped 
out  of  his  own  books  :  and  the  cordial  grace  and  humor  of  his  address  were 
delightfully  characteristic." 


WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT, 

THE  OLDEST  OF  THE  GREAT  AMERICAN   POETS. 

(Sceforlraii,pagt  ('J J.) 

ROBABLY  there   is  no  other  one  among  the  list  of  American 
authors  whose  career  so  links  the  literature  of  the  past  and  of 
the  present  as  Bryant.     "Thanatopsis,"  one  of  his  most  popular 
poems   (though  he  himself  ranked  it  low),  was  written  in  1S12, 
when  the  poet  was   only  eighteen.     He  was   born   in  western 
Massachusetts  in  1794,  and  removed  to  New  York  in  1825.     In 
1826  he  began  to  edit  the  Evcninj^  Jhst,  and  from  that  time  until 
the  day   of   his  death  William  Cullen   Bryant  and  the  E'c'ciiiiig 
Post  were  almost  as  conspicuous  and  permanent  features  of  the  city  as  the  Bat- 
tery and  Trinity  church.     He  lived  under  twenty  Presidential  administrations, 
closing  his  life  in  New  York  in  1878. 

In  1 82 1  Mr.  Bryant  married  Frances  Falrchild,  the  loveliness  of  whose  char- 
acter is  hinted  in  some  of  his  sweetest  poems.     The  one  beginning 

"  O  fairest  of  the  rural  maids," 

was  written  some  years  before  their  marriage  ;  and  "The  Future  Life,"  one  of 
the  noblest  and  most  pathetic  of  his  poems,  is  addressed  to  her ; — 

"  In  meadows  fanned  by  Heaven's  life-breathing  wind, 
In  the  resplendence  of  that  glorious  sphere 
And  larger  movements  of  the  unfettered  mind, 
Wilt  thou  forget  the  love  that  joined  us  here  ? 

"Will  not  thy  own  meek  heart  demand  me  there, — 
That  heart  whose  fondest  throbs  to  me  wi  re  given? 
My  name  on  earth  was  ever  in  thy  prayer, 
And  wilt  thou  never  utter  it  in  heaven?" 


656  WILLIAM  CULLIiX  BRYANT. 

Ainonjj^  his  best-known  poems  arc  "A  I-'orest  Mymn,"  "The  Death  of  the 
Flowers,"  "Lines  to  a  Waterfowl,"  and  "  Tiie  Plantint^r  r)f  the  Ap[)le-Tree." 
( )ne  of  the  greatest  of  his  works,  though  not  anKJiiLj  the  most  popular,  is  his 
translation  of  1  lomer,  which  he  completed  when  seventy-seven  years  of  iv^ii. 

Bryant  had  a  marvelous  memory.  His  familiarity  with  the  linolish  poets 
was  such  that  when  at  sea,  where;  he  was  always  too  ill  to  read  much,  he  would 
bc!^niile  the  time  by  recitini,^  P''^.!,^*^-  'dter  pay^e  from  favorite  poems.  However 
loni^  the  voyaL,'^*',  he  never  exhausted  his  resources.  "I  cjnce  proposeil,"  says  a 
friend,  "  to  send  for  a  copy  of  a  magazine  in  which  a  new  [)oem  of  his  was 
announced  to  appear.  'You  need  not  send  for  it,'  said  he,  'I  can  <i;ive  it  to 
you.'  'Then  you  have  a  copy  with  you?'  said  I.  '  Xo,'  he  replied,  'but  I  can 
recall  it,'  and  thereupon  proceeded  immediately  to  write  it  out.  I  coni,fratulated 
him  upon  havinj^^  such  a  faithful  mcMiiory.  'If  allowed  a  little  time,'  he  repli(Hl, 
•I  could  recall  every  line  of  poetry  I  have  ever  written.'  " 

Mis  tenderness  of  the  feelinj^^s  of  others,  and  his  earnest  desire  always  to 
avoid  the  giving  of  unnecessary  pain,  were  very  marked.  "Soon  after  I  began 
to  do  the  duties  of  literary  editor,"  writes  an  associate,  "  Mr.  Bryant,  who  was 
reading  a  review  of  a  little  book  of  wretchedly  halting  verse,  said  to  me  :  '  I 
wish  you  would  deal  very  gcndy  with  poets,  especially  the  weaker  ones.'  Later, 
I  had  a  very  bad  case  of  poetic  idiocy  to  deal  with,  and  as  Mr.  Bryant  haiipened 
to  come  into  my  room  while  I  was  debating  the  matter  in  my  mind,  1  said  to 
him  that  I  was  embarrassed  by  his  injunction  to  deal  gently  with  poets,  and 
pointed  out  to  him  the  utter  impossibility  of  finding  anything  to  praise  or  lightly 
to  condemn  in  the  book  before  me.  After  I  had  read  some  of  its  stanzas  to 
him,  he  answered:  'No,  you  can't  praise  it,  of  course;  it  won't  do  to  lie  about 
it,  but' — turning  the  volume  in  his  hand  and  inspecting  it — 'you  might  say  that 
the  binding  is  securely  put  on,  and  that — well,  the  binder  has  planed  the 
edges  pretty  smooth.'  " 

Bryant  was  a  man  of  very  striking  appearance,  especially  in  age.  "  It  is  a 
fine  sight,"  says  one  writer,  "a  man  full  of  years,  clear  in  mind,  sober  in  judg- 
ment, refined  in  taste,  and  handsome  in  person.  ...  I  remember  once  to  have 
been  at  a  lecture  where  Mr.  Bryant  sat  several  seats  in  front  of  me,  and  his 
finely-sized  head  was  especially  noticeable.  .  .  .  The  observer  of  Bryant's 
capacious  skull  and  most  refined  expression  of  face  cannot  fail  to  read  therein 
the  history  of  a  noble  manhood." 


JAMES  FENIMORE  COOPER, 

THE  PIQNEEU  OF   AMERICAN   HISTORICAL  ROMANCE. 


COOPER  has  been  calU;(l  "The 
Walter  Scott  of  America."  I  lis 
historical  romances  of  frontier  and 
Indian  life  in  the  early  days  formed 
a  new  and  distinctive  American  lit- 
erature. Cooper  was  born  in  Hur- 
linj^rton,  New  Jersey,  in  1 7.S9,  but 
his  boyhood  home  was  at  Coo[)ers- 
town,  in  central  New  York,  where 
his  father  had  built  a  house  in  the 
wilderness,  on  the  shores  of  Otsego 
lake.  The  place  was  surrt)unded  by 
Indians  of  the  "  Six  Nations,"  who 
came  to  Cooperstown  for  purposes 
of  trade,  and  sometimes  with  hostile 
intent.  The  romantic  surroundings 
of  his  early  youth  doubtless  hatl  a 
powerful  influence  upon  Cooper's 
literary  career.  In  1803  he  entered 
Yale  College  ;  but  his  love  of  free- 
dom and  roving  disposition  led  to 
lawless  excursions  to  the  seashore 
and  the  interior,  in  consequence  of 
which,  in  his  third  year,  he  was  expelled.  In  1806,  when  oiily  seventei-n,  he 
went  to  sea  as  a  common  sailor,  and  afterward  entered  the  navy  as  a  midship- 
man. In  iSii  he  married  the  daughter  of  Peter  I)e  Lancey,  one  of  a  New 
York  family  who  had  been  Tcjries  during  the  Revolution.  This  marriage  was 
one  of  several  events  which  led  to  his  being  charged  with  English  sympathies, 
and  to  his  subsequent  unpopularity. 

Cooper  was  thirty  years  old  before  the  thought  of  a  literary  career  had 
entered  his  mind.  One  day,  when  reading  an  luiglish  novel  to  his  wife,  he 
exclaimed  in  disgust,  "  I  believe  I  could  write  a  better   story  myself"     lincour- 

657 


JAMK.S    IKMMOKIC    COIU'KR. 


658  JAMES  FliXIMORJi  COOPER. 

ajjf(!il  by  her,  the  thniiL,MuU-ss  nMiiark  became  a  purpos(^  and  resulted  in  his  first 
story,  ■'  I'n^caiition,"  which,  whih;  cU^alini^  with  iintaniiliar  scenes,  was  successful 
enouijh  to  prompt  further  ('ffort.  The;  story  of  a  spy  of  the  Revolution,  told  to 
him  years  before  by  his  friend  J(jhn  Jay  (scr  />.  ^j),  recurretl  to  his  mind,  and  he 
wrote  th(;  tale  of  "The  Spy,"  which  had  a  success  then  unprecedented  in 
vXmerican  literature.  Then  followeil  rapidly  "The  Piontn-rs,"  "The  Pilot,"  and 
"The  Last  of  the  Mohicans,"  which  in  1S26  raised  his  fame  to  the  hij^diest 
point.  The  power  of  his  description  is  well  illustrated  by  its  effect  on  an  old 
sailor,  to  whom  Cooper  read  parts  of  "The  Pilot,"  while  he  was  writini,^  it. 
When  he  came  to  the  passage  describinj^  the  vessel  beatiu)^  out  of  the  "  Devil's 
(irip"  shoals,  in  the  tj^atherini^  storm,  his  auditor  became  restless,  rose  from  his 
chair,  and  bej^an  uneasily  to  pace  the  floor.  Not  a  detail  escaped  him.  Pres- 
ently he  burst  out,  "  It's  all  very  well,  my  fine  fellow,  but  you  have  let  your 
jib  stantl  too  lons.^."  Cooper  was  delii^hted  with  his  success,  but  took  the  hint, 
ajid  made  the  wind  blmv  the  jib  from  its  bolt-ropes. 

I'or  a  (piarter  of  a  century  a  ceaseless  succession  of  books  poured  from 
Cooper's  busy  pen.  In  the  latter  part  of  his  life,  unfortunately,  he  became 
involved  in  numerous  controversies  and  quarrels,  most  of  them  resultinjj^  from 
strictures  in  his  Ijooks  upon  America  and  Americans,  especially  in  "  Homeward 
Hounil.  "  A  friend,  writing,'-  from  Italy  after  readinLr  that  book,  said,  "  I  think 
you  lose  your  hokl  on  th(;  American  public  by  rubbinjf  down  their  shins  with 
brickbats  as  you  tlo.  "  In  consequence  of  newspaper  attacks,  Mr.  Cooper 
brought  lilxl  suits  ai^aiinst  Thurlow  Weed,  Morace  Greeley,  James  Watson 
Webb,  and  other  editors.  These  cases  he  arj^aied  himself  showintr  ,t,rreat  ability 
as  a  lawy(.'r,  and  secured  numerous  verdicts  ijivint];'  him  ^lama^'•es  ;  but  the  rc-sult 
increaseil  his  unpopularity.  I  le  retired  to  his  domiiin  at  Cooperstown,  where 
he  dietl  in  1S51,  leavint,'-  an  injunction  to  his  children  that  no  bioi^^raphy  of  him 
should  be  written  or  materials  furnished  by  them.  .Six  months  after  his  death 
a  public  mevtini(  in  honor  of  the  threat  novelist's  memory  was  held  in  New  York. 
Daniel  Webster  presided  anil  addressed  the  gatherins^-,  and  William  Cullen 
Bryant  made  an  address  which  did  much  to  restore  Cooper  to  his  rii,rhtful  place 
amoiij;  the  writers  who  have  won  for  American  literature  a  great  and  enduring 
fame. 


GEORGE  BANCROFT, 

THE  EMINENT   AMERICAN   HISTORIAN. 


Tlil'^  '^vvdi  historian  of  the  United 
States  was  th(^  son  of  Rev.  Aaron 
HancToft,  a  typical  New  I'ji<,flancl 
cl(Ti^rynian.  1 1<:  was  l)orn  in  Octo- 
ber, iSoo, — th(,'  same  month  and 
Vftar  in  whicli  M;icaiilay,  the 
!^n'at  luiL^Hsh  historian,  first  saw 
the  lii^iit.  To  his  native  brains 
Mr.  IJancroft  was  fortunately  able 
to  add  unusual  educational  oppor- 
tunities, lie  enter(.'(.l  Harvard  at 
thirteen,  Ljraduated  at  seventeen, 
and  n\U'v  his  graduation  pursued  a 
Unv^  coin'se  of  study  and  travel  in 
Murope.  whence  Ik-  returned  in 
iS:::,  brin^iuL;  the  fruits  of  his  c.k- 
jK'rience  in  the  shape  of  rare  stores 
ot  knowledge  and  culture,  and  an 
extensive  accpiaintanct-  with  the 
most  distin!L,niishe(l  men  of  the 
time.  I  le  then  entt-red  political 
life,  in  which  for  many  years  he 
took  an  active  part.  In  iS;,.).  ap- 
peared the  first  volume  of  his  c;reat  History.  Politics  interrupted  his  literary 
work,  and  the  succeedinjj;^  volumes  followed  at  hin<^  int(;rvals.  In  1S45  ht;  was 
mad(t  .Secretary'  of  the  Navy  under  President  Polk,  and  in  1S46  ministttr  to 
.tin,<,danil.  Thf;  tenth  and  last  solumeof  th<-  I  listory  was  not  publishcxl  until 
1874.  It  comes  down  only  to  the  close  of  the  R(!Vo!ution.  Tht;  intense  patriot- 
ism of  th(!  author  is  manifest  in  nearly  every  pai^'-e,  and  the;  work  has  been 
criticised  as  "a  Fourth-of-July  oration  in  ten  volumes."  This  fault,  however,  if 
it  be  a  fault,  is  easy  for  Americans  to  fori.,nve,  and  the  work  is  i^cnerally 
regarded  as  the  standard  history  of  .America  up  to  the  time  of  the  Constitution^ 

659 


i;kokc.k  mam  koi  r. 


66o  RALPH  WAl.DO  EMERSON. 

Mr.  liancroft  was  an  orator  as  well  as  a  historian  and  politician,  one  of  the 
best-known  of  his  addresses  being  the  famous  oration  on  Lincoln,  delivered 
before  Congress  in  1866.  During  the  latter  part  of  his  life  he  had  a  winter 
home  in  Washington,  where  the  national  archives  and  the  Library  of  Congress 
were  always  at  his  hand,  and  a  summer  home  at  Newport,  where  he  had  a  won- 
derful garden  of  roses,  which  was  a  great  attraction.  Rose-growing  and  horse- 
back riding  were  his  recreations,  and  the  erect  and  striking  form  of  the  historian, 
with  his  long  gray  beard,  mounted  on  a  fine;  horse,  was  for  years  a  familiar 
figure  at  Newport  and  on  the  streets  of  Washington. 


RALPH  WALDO  EMERSON, 

THE  CONCORD  PHILOSOPHER  AND   POET. 

(.SVc  poll  rait,  p.  642.') 

(MERSOX,  the  famous  philosopher,  poet,  and  essayist,  the  ".Sage 

of  Concord,  '  was   born   in    Boston   in    1803,  and  graduated  at 

Harvard  whcMi  only  eighteen.     It  is  characteristic  of  him   that 

while   in  college  he  spent  most  of  his  time  in  the  library  ;   and 

at  graduation,  although  not  above  the  average  of  his  class  in 

general  studies,  in  literature  he  was  far  beyond  any  of  them. 

He  studied   for  the  ministry,  and  for  a  few  years  was  pastor  of 

a  Boston  church  ;  but  he  soon  resigned  because  he  could  not 

accept  some  of  the  doctrines  of  the  church,  and  thereafter  devoted  himself  to 

literature.      His  home  was  in  Concord,  Massachusetts,  near   the   scene  of  the 

famous  battle  of  1775,  commemorated  by  his  own  verse: — 

"  Tliere  first  the  embattled  farmers  stood, 

And  fired  the  shot  heard  round  the  world." 

This  home,  especially  after  his  works  had  given  him  reputation  and  author- 
ity, became  a  sort  of  Mecca  to  which  Emerson's  disciples  and  admirers,  drawn 
either  by  the  man  himself  or  by  his  works,  made  pilgrimages.  He  had  a  pecu- 
liarly attractive  and  impressive  personality.  One  writer  says  of  him  :  "  One  day 
there  came  into  our  pulpit  the  most  gracious  of  mortals,  with  a  face  all  benig- 
nity, who  gave  out  the  first  hymn  and  made  the  first  prayer,  as  an  angel  might 
have  read  and  prayed.  Our  choir  was  a  pretty  good  one.  but  its  best  was 
coarse  and  discordant  alter  Emerson's  voice."  Miss  Fredrika  Bremer,  the 
Swedish  novelist,  who  visited  America  in  1849,  thus  describes  him  : — 

"  Emerson  came  to  meet  us,  walking  down  the  little  avenue  of  spruce  firs 


EDGAR  A.  rOE.  661 

which  leads  from  his  house,  bare-headed  amid  the  fallinif  snow.  He  is  a  quiet, 
nobly  grave  figure,  his  complexion  pale,  with  strongly  marked  features  and 
dark  hair.  That  which  struck  me  most,  as  tlistinguishing  him  from  most  other 
human  beings,  is  his  nobility.  Me  is  a  born  nobleman.  1  have  secMi  before  two 
other  men  born  with  this  stamp  ujjon  them.  Mmerson  is  the  third  who  has  it, 
and  perhaps  in  a  yet  higher  (.legree.  And  added  thereto  that  deep  intonation 
of  voice,  that  expression,  so  mild  yet  so  elevated  at  the  same  time,  1  could  not 
but  think  of  Maria  Lowell's  words,  '  If  he  merely  mt^ntions  my  name  I  feel  my- 
self ennobled.'  " 

It  was  in  his  home  life  that  the  peculiar  power  and  loveliness  of  lunerson's 
character  shone  most  conspicuously.  "Mis  charm,"  says  out;  writer,  "lay 
largely  in  his  manners,  which  were  simple,  yet  faultless.  He  greeted  his  frieiuls 
with  all  the  mildness  and  serenity  of  the  very  god  of  repose,  and  induced  in 
them  ...  a  feeling  of  entire  contentment  with  all  the  world.  No  heat,  no  fret, 
no  hurry,  no  great  call  to  strenuous  exertion  to  appear  well  or  make  a  fine  impres- 
sion. .Ml  was  ease,  calm,  unstudied  attention  to  every  little  want,  and  talk  fit 
for  the  noblest  and  the  best."  Me  was  an  example  of  wha'  he  himself  honored 
most: — "I  honor,"  he  says,  "that  man  whose  ambition  it  is.  not  to  win  laurel-s 
in  the  State  or  the  army,  not  to  be  a  jurist  or  a  naturalist,  not  to  be  a  poet  or  a 
commander,  but  to  be  a  master  of  living  well,  and  to  administer  the  offices  of 
master  or  servant,  of  husband,  father,  and  friend." 

Emerson  died  at  Concord  in  .April,  1S82. 


EDGAR  A.  POE, 

THE  BRILLIANT   POET  AND   AUTHOR. 

AMONG  the  geniuses  of  literature  tlicre  are  'ew  namps  whose  iiistory 
is  so  completely  dark  and  sad  as  that  of  Edgar  A.  I'oe.  The  author  of  "The 
Raven  "  and  "The  Bells,  '  and  of  those  wonderful  romances  which  \\a\v.  made 
his  name  famous,  was  the  son  of  a  pair  of  actors  on  the  variety  stage,  and  was 
born  in  Baltimore  in  1S09.  Mis  parents  were  mist.'rably  poor,  ami  the  death  of 
the  mother  in  Richmond  in  iSi  i  left  her  three  children  to  the  care  of  the  public. 
Edgar,  who  was  a  beautiful  and  precocious  child,  was  adopted  by  Mrs.  John 
Allan,  by  whom  he  was  brought  uj)  in  luxury.  Me  was  a  brilliant  scholar, 
and  had  the  best  educational  advantages  ;  but  at  the  University  of  X'irginia, 
which  he  entered  at  the  age  of  seventeen,  he  formed  the  habit  of  drinking, — a 
hibit  which  wrecked  his  whole  life.     After  graduating,   he  spent  a   year  in 


662 


EDGAR  ./.  POn. 


lMirf)|ii',  and  hccamc  editor  tirst  of  ilu-  Soiitlurtt  l.itcrary  A/cssai j^cr  ;xml  after- 
ward  of  tlv;  (nii//cniait's  J/dj^uiz/z/r  d\u\  (I'ni/itr/i/'s  J/(i<^'(i-()/r.  He  married  his 
cousin,  \'irn;inia  Clemin,  when  sh<'  was  only  fourteen  years  of  age,  and  the 
two.  witii  X'iroinia's  mother,  led  a  lift;  of  tli(;  deepest  poverty  for  ten  years, 
until  his  wife's  il<:ath. 

1  his  in.irriagt.',  rash  and  foolish  as  it  sc^ems.  was  one  of  thi;  best  things  in 
Poc's  life.     He  was  a  kind  and  devoted  husband,  and  his  wife  repaid  him  with 

an  affection  that  was  little  short 
of  worship.  Hut  he  was  never 
able  to  rid  himself  of  his  appe- 
tite; for  drink,  and  he  ilied  at  last 
of  delirium  tremens. 

Poe  was  a  fine  reader  and 
('locutionist.  A  writer  who  at- 
tend(.'d  two  lecturt:s  by  him  in 
Richmond  says,  "I  ne\er  heard  a 
voice;  s(j  musical  as  his.  It  was 
full  of  the  sweetest  melody.  Dur- 
ing thi;  lecture  he  recitetl  Hood's 
'  iiridge  of  .Sighs.'  A  little  boy 
about  twelve  years  of  age  was 
sitting  near  me.  1 !(;  was  listen- 
ing intently,  and  b(;fore  Poe  had 
fmish(;d  the  poem  he  was  in  tears. 
Could  there;  be;  any  greater  tri- 
bute to  a  sp(;aker"s  power?  .After 
the  lei  ture  Poe  v(;ry  modestly 
saiel,  '  I  have  been  recpiested  to 
recite;  my  own  pe)e;m,  "The  Ra- 
il.,,m;  \,  I,, I.  ve;n."  '      Xe)  one;   who    hearel    this 

will   e:ve;r   forget    the   beauty  and 

pathos  with  which   this  recitatiem  was  rendereel.     The  audie;nce  was  as  still  as 

ele'ath,  and  as  his  we-irel,  musical  ve)ice;  filled  the-  hall,  its  effe-ct  was  simjjly  inele- 

scribable.     It  se-e'ins  to  me  that  I  can  ye-t  he-ar  that  lf)ng,  plaintive  '  Xe've'rme)re;.'  " 

A  lady  whe)  was  an   intimate;  frie-nd  ni  Poe  in  his  later  years  says  of  him  : — 

"I  Iiavi'  never  seen  him  (itlier\vi->e  tli.m  _L;eiitle,  tieneroiis.  well-bred,  and  fastidiously  refined. 
To  a  sensitive  and  (leli(  ,uel)-  niirlured  wmnan  tiiere  was  a  jieciiliar  and  irresistible  charm  in  the 
fhivalrir.  graeelul,  and  almost  tender  reverence  with  which  he  invariably  approached  all  women 
who  wnn  his  respect." 

Poe  died  in  Haltime)rt:  in  1849. 


NATHANIEL  HAWTHORNE, 

THE  GREATEST   AMERICAN   WHITER  OF   ROMANCE, 


TIIH  famous  ai.thor  of  "The 
ScarU't  Letter  "  and  "The  MarbU: 
I'aun  "  was  th(;  son  of  a  sea-cap- 
tain, anil  was  horn  in  SaU'm,  Nhis- 
sachiisctts,  in  1S04.  (See  p.  638.) 
I  !(•  i^raihiatecl  at  Howdoin  College, 
Nhiini;,  Loii^h^llow,  the  poet,  and 
hranklln  I'ierce,  aft(;rward  I'resi- 
cUmU  of  the  I'nited  States,  beint^ 
anionj^  his  classmates.  1  lawthorne 
was  moody  and  melancholy,  and 
Pierce  did  much  to  cheer  and  en- 
courai^e  him,  thus  laying-  tin;  foun- 
dation of  a  lifelont,'^  friendship.  In 
1843  1  Iawthorn<;  took  up  his  resi- 
dence at  ConcortI,  in  the  "  ( )U1 
Manse"  (see  p.  640I,  which  he  has 
mad(;  so  famous,  and  from  whose 
windows,  it  is  said,  the  minister  of 
th(;  parish,  on  .\pril  igih,  1775, 
looked  out  upon  the  meniorahle 
battle  between  his  fellow-townsmen 
ami  the  British  troops.  \i\  1846  he 
published  "Mosses  from  an  Old  Manse,"  ami  in  1850  "The  .Scarlet  Letter," 
which  immediately  placed  him  at  the  heatl  of  American  writers  of  fiction.  In 
1852  President  Pierce  appointed  hini  consul  at  Liverpool,  and  most  of  the 
remainder  of  his  life  was  spent  in  Europe. 

In  general  company,  Hawthorne  was  silent  and  reserved,  lie  was  intensely 
shy,  so  much  so  that  he  has  been  known  to  leave  the  road  and  take  to  the  fields 
rather  than  encounter  a  group  of  passers-by.  He  loved  to  go  on  solitary 
walks,  seeking  out  secluded  places  where  he  could  muse  and  dream  without 
fear  ofdistiarbance.    Once  he  brought  Mr.  Fields,  his  friend  and  publisher,  to  one 

663 


NATHAN  in.    llAWnluKNi:. 


664  NATHANIEL  IIAWTIIORNIi 

of  these  haunts,  and  l)a(l(;  him  lie  down  on  the  L,Tass.  and  watch  the  clouds  lloat 
abov(,',  and  hoar  tlic  birds  sIul;-.  "  As  we  sI(;c[)»h1  ()ursclv(;s  in  the  delicious  iille- 
n(-'ss."  writes  Mr.  Fields,  "he  bej^an  to  murnnir  sonn;  halfforj^otten  lines  fn^ii 
'Ihoinson's  '  .Seasons,'  which  he  said  had  been  favorites  ol'his  boyhood.  While  we 
lay  there,  hidden  in  th(!  i^rass,  we  hc-ard  a[)|)roachini;  footsteps,  and  Iiawthorn(; 
hurriedly  whisix-red,  'Duck!  or  we  shall  Ix;  interrupted  bj- sonn-body.'  The 
sole-innity  of  his  nianiKM',  and  tin;  thoui,du  of  the  down  llat  position  in  which  we 
had  both  placed  ours(!lves  to  avoid  bi-iiii:,'^  seen,  hr(;w  me  into  a  foolish  semi- 
hysterical   tit  of  lauj^diter.  and  when  he  nud,m'd  me   and  aj^ain  whispered  mori; 

luj^ubriously  than   ever,  'Heaven  hel|)  me,  Mr.  is  closi;   upon  us!'     I  felt 

convinced  that  if  the  thing  went  further,  suffocation,  in  my  case  at  least,  must 
ensue." 

I'Ortunati^ly  for  Hawthorne,  anil  for  the  worlil  as  well,  he  was  most 
happily  marrieil,  his  wife  beini^  a  woman  of  stront:;'  common  sense  and  strength 
of  character,  able  to  shield  her  sensitive,  shy,  unpractical  husbantl  from  the 
world,  willinj^  and  .Lj^lad  to  bear  the  burdens  of  poverty  for  his  sake,  and  fmding 
her  abundant  recompense  in  his  love  and  com|)anionship.  'J'he  early  years  of 
their  marriage,  before  the  publication  of  "  The  Scarlet  Letter,"  were  spent  in 
poverty  and  obscurity  ;  but  there  was  the  most  perfect  sympathy  and  companion- 
ship in  the  home  life.  Theirs  was  in  truth  an  ideal  marriage.  Hawthorne 
himself  writes  : — 

"  My  wife  is  in  the  strictest  sense  my  sole  companion,  and  I  need  no  other  ; 
there  is  no  vacancy  in  my  mind  any  more  than  in  my  heart.  In  truth,  I  have 
spent  so  many  years  in  total  seclusion  from  human  society  that  it  is  no  wonder 
if  now  I  feel  all  my  desires  satistled  by  this  sole  intercourse." 

Hawthorne  returned  from  Europe  with  his  family  during  the  time  of  the 
civil  war,  anil  died  not  long  after  his  return.  "We  carried  him,"  writes 
Fields,  "through  the  blossoming  orchards  of  Concord,  and  laid  him  down  under 
a  group  of  pines  on  a  hillside  :  the  unfinished  romance  which  had  cost  him 
such  an.xiety  laiil  upon  his  coffin."  His  friend,  Longfellow,  in  one  of  his 
most  e.xipiisite  poems,  describes  the  scene,  referring  to  the  uncompleted 
romance  in  the  closing  lines  : — 

"  Ah,  who  shall  lift  that  wand  of  magic  power, 
And  the  lost  clue  regain  ? 
The  unfinished  window  in  Aladdin's  tower 
Unfinished  must  remain." 


HENRY  D.  THOREAU, 

THE  CONCUKD   HhRMIl    AND   NATURALIST. 


THOREAU  is  one  of  the  most 
(jiiaiiit  and  strikin<r  fi^urus  of  tlit.- 
"  Concord  }^^roup "  of  writers  and 
philosophers,  of  which  Emerson  was 
the  head.  1  le  was  horn  in  iSi  7,  and 
j^'raduated  at  1  larvard  in  iX;,;.  In 
manners,  dress,  and  motle  of  hte  he 
was  very  eccentric.  In  i  S45  he  built 
a  small  frame  house  on  the  shores 
of  W'alden  Pond,  near  Conccjrd, 
wluTe  for  some  years  he.  lived  as  a 
hermit,  devotint^  himself  to  the  study 
of  nature.  He  L^ives  an  acccnmt  of 
thi.s  part  of  his  life  in  the  little  book 
entitled  "  W'alden."  In  later  years 
his  writings  became  better  known 
and  more  popular  ;  l:)ut  a  year  after 
an  edition  of  one  thousand  copies  of 
his  first  work  was  printed,  he  wrote 
to  a  friend  that  he  could  now  say 
that  he  was  the  owner  of  a  library 
of  nearly  a  thousantl  volumes,  over 
nine  hunilred  of  which  he  wrote  him- 
self. It  is  said  that  Thoreau  never  went  to  church,  never  voted,  and  nevir 
paid  a  ta.x.  The  only  business  which  he  ever  followed  was  that  of  a  surveyor. 
Em  -son  says  of  him,  "  Mr.  Thoreau  dedicated  his  genius  with  such  entire  love 
to  the  fields,  hills,  and  waters  of  his  native  town,  that  he  made  them  known  ant', 
interesting  to  all  reading  Americans  and  to  people  over  the  sea.  Whilst  he 
us(!d  in  his  writings  a  certain  petulance  of  remark  in  reference  to  churches  and 
churchmen,  he  was  a  person  of  rare,  tender,  and  absolute  religion, — a  person 
incapable  of  any  profanation.  '     He  was  never  married.     He  died  in  1S62. 

665 


llENRV    I>.    THORKAU. 


JOHN  G.  WHITTIER. 
THK  UUAKER   POET  OF  AMERICA. 


W HI  rriKR.  the  poet  of  freedom 
and  rii^ht  and  truth,  tlu-  author  of 
'•  Snow-Iioiind  "  and  "The  Tent 
on  th(!  Beach,"  was  a  N(r\v  I'^ng- 
land  farmer's  son,  born  at  Haver- 
hill, Massachusetts,  in  iHag.  1  h; 
has  iriven  us  a  most  perfect  picture 
of  the  home  life  of  his  youth,  _t,rlow- 
inj^  with  life  and  color,  in  the  ex- 
quisite poem  of  "Snow-Hound." 
Not  evcm  the  hard,  bare,  practical 
round  of  farm  lift;  in  a  Quaker 
home  could  re|)r(!ss  the  poetry  in 
him.  When  he  was  a  boy  of 
eighteen,  he  sent  with  fear  and 
trembling  some  anonymous  verses 
to  the  weekly  j)aper  in  Newbury- 
port,  of  which  William  Lloyd  Gar- 
rison, afterward  the  famous  aboli- 
tionist, was  editor.  When  the  next 
paper  came,  Whittier  was  trans- 
fixed with  delit^hted  surprise  to  find 
his  verses  not  only  printed,  but 
commended,  with  a  note  l^y  the  editor  askino;  for  more.  Soon  afterward  Garri- 
son, himself  little  more  than  a  boy,  came  to  see  the  young  poet,  and  to  plead 
with  his  parents  for  an  education  for  him.  Whittier  thus  naturally  drifted  into 
advocacy  of  the  cause  of  freedom,  and  for  many  years  his  earnest  and  thrillint,'^ 
poems  were  ilevoted  to  that  cause.  On  more  than  one  occasion  he  was  threat- 
ened with  mob  violence  for  his  part  in  the  abolition  movement,  for  which,  after 
the  final  overthrow  of  slav<!ry,  he  was  so  much  honored. 

Whittier  was  nt^er  married.     His  home  was  presided  over  for  many  years 

666 


jDiiN  i;.  whutikr. 


JO  I IX  c.  wmrniiR.  667 

by  his  sister  l^li/abcth,  a  most  lovi.-ly  and  taliMitird  woman,  hctwi'cn  whom  and 
hi-T  brother  was  an  unusually  close  and  affectionate  boinl.  I  Ur  death  was  the 
j^reatest  loss  of  his  life,  anil  he  ha-,  written  noihin:;  more  touchin;^  than  his 
tribute  to  her  memory  in  "Snow  Uouml": — 

" 'l"he  l)irils  arc  ^'^"1 :  ''"-'  liricr-rost-  fills 
The  air  with  swix'tncs^ ;  all  the  liilK 
Stretch  iiXiinu  lii  June's  iiiiiluiKled  hky  ; 
But  still  I  wait  with  ear  and  eye 
Fur  sumethiiif;  goiu'  wliii  li  slmukl  he  iii,L;h,— 
A  loss  in  all  taniiliar  thiii;,'s. 
In  flower  that  blooms,  and  bird  that  sings. 
And  vet,  dear  heart,  renieiiiliering  tiiee, 
Am  1  not  richer  than  of  old? 
Sate  in  thy  inunortalitv. 
What  change  can  reach  the  wealth  I  hold? 
What  chance  can  mar  the  pearl  and  tjold 
Thy  love  hath  lelt  in  tni>t  with  me?" 

In  personal  appearance  W'hiitier  was  ilcscrilK^l  in  his  prime  as  "tall,  sUmi- 
der,  and  slrai^jht  as  an  Indian,  lie  has  a  supirrb  head  ;  his  broad  brow  looks 
like  a  white  cloud  under  his  raven  hair  ;  eyes  larj,^e,  black  as  sloes,  and  glowinj^ 
with  expression.   .   .   .   Ilashino^  like  stars  under  such  a  mai^mificent  forehiiad." 

Althouii;^h  Whittier  was  for  nearly  half  a  century  famous  as  a  poet,  his 
works,  imtil  his  later  years.  broii|L,dit  him  a  very  scanty  revenue.  I'Vom  his 
"Life  and  Letters,"  published  in  'S94,  we  learn  that  llu;  first  sales  of  "Snow 
Hound"  realized  $10,000,  after  which  he  was  in  comfortable  circumstances. 
"  The  Tent  on  the  Beach  "  sold  for  some  weeks  at  the  rate  of  a  thousand  copies 
a  day.  and  he  wrote  to  his  publisher,  "  This  will  never  do.  The  swindle  is 
awful."  He  could  hardly  credit  the  popularity  of  his  poems,  and  felt  that  it 
was  not  merited. 

The  poet  was  shy  and  diffident  amonjr  stranj^crs  and  in  formal  society,  but 
among  his  friends  genial  and  delightful,  with  a  fimd  of  gentle  and  delicate 
humor  which  gave  his  conversation  a  great  charm.  He  was  extremely  fond  of 
children,  who  rarely  failed  to  appreciate  and  return  his  love.  Thoi'igh  always  a 
member  of  the  .Society  of  I'Viends,  he  was  broail  and  liberal,  dwelling  little 
upon  forms  or  creeds.  Onct;,  when  a  little  niece  wanted  a  scarlet  cape  such  as 
other  children  were  wearing,  and  her  Quaker  mother  objected,  Mr.  Whittier 
pleaded  for  the  little  girl  so  well  that  she  was  allowed  to  have  her  way. 

The  evening  of  Mr.  Whittier's  life  was  passed  among  near  friends  at  Dan- 
vers,  Massachusetts,  with  the  pleasant  consciousness  of  being  widely  esteemed 
and  beloved.     He  died  on  September  7th,  1S92. 


JAMES  RUSSELL  LOWELL. 

THE  GREAT    POET    AND    ESSAYIST. 

(.SVv  [•ofliait,  1-.  ('yd.) 

IT  IS  Iiard  to  label  this  many- 
sidiid  man,  author  of  "  The 
X'ision  of  Sir  Laiinfal "  ami 
the  "  FabU;  lor  Critics,"  the 
"  Hi^dow  Papers "  aiul  the 
"Present  Crisis,"  poet,  essay- 
ist, critic,  wit,  man  of  letters, 
diplomatist,  and  professor. 
He  was  born  in  Hoston  in 
1819.  lie  graduated  ai  Har- 
vard, and  began  the  study  of 
law,  but  soon  gave  it  up  to 
devote  himself  to  literature. 
He  married  Maria  White,  a 
woman  of  singular  beauty  and 
loveliness,  who  is  the  subject 
of  some  of  his  most  exquisite 
poems.  Mrs.  Lowell  was  her- 
self a  poet,  the  best  known  of 
her  works  being  those  sweet 
and    pathetic    poems,    "  The 

Alpine  Sheep"  and  "The  Morning-Glory,"  both  in  memory  of  a  dead  child. 

Mrs.  Lowell  herself  died  in  1853.     On  the  night  of  her  death  a  daughter  was 

born  to  Mr.  Lowell's  neighbor,  the  poet  Longfellow,  who  sent  to  his  friend  the 

beautiful  poem,  "The  Two  Angels." 

"  'Twasat  thy  door,  O  friend,  and  not  at  mine 
I'he  angel  with  the  amaranthine  WTcath, 
Pausing,  descended,  and  with  voice  divine 
Uttered  a  word  that  had  a  sound  like  death. 

"  Then  fell  upon  the  house  a  sudden  gloom, 
A  shadow  on  those  features  fair  and  ihin, 
And  slowly,  from  that  hushed  and  darkened  room, 
Two  angels  issued,  where  but  one  went  in." 
668 


INTERIfiR    OF   MKMORIAL    HAI  I.,    HARVAKD    I'M VKRSITV. 


JAM/:S  RlSSliU.  LOW  1. 1. 1.. 


6r»«) 


In  1S54  Mr.  Lowell  was  a|)|)()iiUc(l  lo  llu- chair  u{  jif'es/r/lrrs  \u  Harvard 
l^nivcrsity.  aii<l  lor  a  niinihcr  ot  years  (lclivcr<'<l  icitiires  on  literature  of  a  \(ry 
hi^'h  order.  When  the  .  U/anfic  A/niit/i/y  was  estahlishetl,  in  1S57.  he  Ixianu: 
its  editor,  and  under  his  care  it  attained  the  luL^hest  literary  rank.  11<- also 
edited  for  sonu:  years  the  Xorf/i  .InicrirdH  AVvvVu'.  lU;  was  apiminled  hy 
President  I  layes  minister  to  .Spain,  and  afterward  ininist('r  to  l-'nijland,  where  Iv 
received  the;  hiiL^hest  honors,  lie  was  particularly  distiniL;uished  tor  his  admir- 
able public  addresses,  of  which  he  made  a  number  while  in  l'-nj.;land,  receivinj^ 
the  highest  i)raise  for  his  efforts. 


2-     '-T-, .,_.,,  '^trw 


•MKMipKI.M.    IIAI.I.,    IIAKVAKI)    INI\l.ks|lV. 


Lowell  bei,Mn  early  to  employ  his  pen  in  Ix'half  of  the  cause  of  freedom. 
The  first  series  of  the  "  Hii^low  l'a|H!rs,"  satiri/ini,r  th(;  Mexican  War,  showed 
that  a  new  force  hail  appeared  in  literature.  Many  who  hatl  been  indifferi;nt  to 
the  subject  were  attracted  and  inten-sted  l)y  their  Vv\\\\  wit  and  sarcasm.  A 
certain  John  P.  Robinson  attained  undyint,^  fame  by  bein^;  pilloried  in  a  verse  of 
Lowell's,  whose  jingle  caught  the  popular  ear  :  and  potM  Mr.  Robinson,  dis- 
tracted by  hearing  on  every  hand  some  one  repeating  how 

"John   1". 
Rol)inson  he 
Sez  they  didn't  know  everything  down  in  Jn'ke," 
39 


670  WALT  WHfTMAN. 

sailed  for  Europe  ;  but  one  of  the  first  thin^^s  he  heard  on  arriving  on  foreign 
shores  was  that  same  tormenting  rhyme,  which  pursued  him  wherever  he  went. 
The  first  series  of  these  "  Papers  "  undoubtedly  had  a  powerful  influence  in 
forming  public  opinion  against  slavery ;  while  the  second  series,  published 
during  the  war,  was  even  more  potent  in  winning  support  for  the  government  in 
prosecuting  the  war,  and  for  the  emancipation  measures.  The  stinging  words 
of  his  "  Mason  and  Slidell."  written  when  England  was  threatening  war  because 
of  the  capture  of  the  Confederate  commissioners,  still  thrill  the  heart  and  stir  the 
blood.  And  his  greatest  poem,  the  noble  "  Commemoration  Ode,"  was  read 
at  the  dedication  of  "  Memorial  Hall,"  at  Harvard,  to  the  sons  of  the  great  Uni- 
versity who  fell  in  the  civil  war.  Nowhere  is  Lowell's  fervent  patriotism  more 
worthily  expressed  than  in  the  closing  lines  of  Uiat  great  poem  : — 

"  What  words  of  lover  or  of  poet 
Could  tell  our  love  and  make  thee  know  it, 
'  Among  the  nations  bright  beyond  compare! 

AVhat  were  our  lives  without  thee  ? 
What  all  our  lives  to  save  thee  ? 
We  reck  not  what  we  gave  thee, 
We  will  not  dare  to  doubt  thee; 

But  ask  whatever  else,  and  we  will  dare  !  " 

Mr.  Lowell  died  at  his  home  in    Cambridge,  Massachusetts,  on  August 
I2th,   1891. 


WALT  WHITMAN, 

THE   AUTHOR   OF   "LEAVES  OF  GRASS." 

(See  portrait,  p.   644. ) 

NE  of  the  inost  original  and  striking  figures  among  American 
1  writers  is  Walt  Whitman,  the  author  of  "  Drum-taps "  and 
"  Leaves  of  Grass."  Whitman  was  born  on  Long  Island  in 
|f  1 8 19,  and  learned  the  printing  trade  in  Brooklyn,  which  favored 
the  development  of  his  literary  ability.  From  boyhood  he  had 
a  "  passion  for  humanity,"  and  an  equally  strong  one  for  nature, 
and  spent  much  of  his  time  on  the  lonely  Long  Island  beaches, 
and  again  among  the  crowds  on  the  streets  and  at  the  ferries. 
For  some  years  he  was  engaged  as  a  printer  and  journalist,  editing  the  Brook- 
lyn Eagle  and  other  papers.  "Leaves  of  Grass"  was  first  published  in  1855. 
It  was  certainly  a  new  kind  of  poetry,  and  stirred  up  much  discussion,  being 


LOUISA  M.  ALCOTT. 


671 


vehemently  denounced  by  many  critics  for  its  violation  of  all  accepted  rules  of 
literary  propriety.  Durinjr  the  civil  war  Whitman  was  a  volunteer  nurse  in 
the  Washington  hospitals,  and  on  Lincoln's  tragic  death  wrote  his  fine  poem, 
"  My  Captain,"  which  was  publishetl  in  the  collection  called  "  Drum-taps." 
This  book  confirmed  his  reputation  as  a  poet,  which  from  that  time  increased 
steadily,  especially  in  England.  During  the  latter  part  of  his  life  he  lived  in  a 
small  house  in  Camden,  New  Jersey.  He  was  a  familiar  figure  on  the  streets 
and  ferry-boats,  with  his  long  white  beard,  slouch  hat,  and  peculiar  dress.  Mis 
kindness  of  heart  and  amiable  disposition  made  him  greatly  beloved  among 
those  by  whom  he  was  best  known.     He  died  in  1S92. 


LOUISA  M.  ALCOTT, 

THE  AUTHOR   OF  "LITTLE  WOMEN." 

{See  forlrail,  piigt  6^S.) 


OT  one  of  the  stories  of  the  author  of  "Little  Women,"  fasci- 
nating as  the  young  people  of  America  have  found  them  to  be, 
is  half  so  interesting  or  pathetic  as  the  story  of  her  own  life 
and  work.  Miss  Alcott  was  born  in  1832,  in  Germantown, 
now  a  suburb  of  Philadelphia.  She  was  the  daughter  of  Amos 
l^ronson  Alcott  one  of  the  "Concord  school"  of  philosophers, 
of  whom  Emerson  was  the  head.  He  was  an  amiable,  scholarly, 
unworldly  man, — one  of  the  geniuses  of  whom  it  has  been  aptly 
said  that  they  "have  every  kind  of  sense  but  common-sense."  Mr.  Alcott's 
various  hobbies,  his  frequent  changes,  and  his  utter  lack  of  thrift,  made  life  hard 
indeed  for  his  devoted  wife  and  their  children.  In  1834  the  family  moved  to 
Boston,  where  Mr.  Alcott  undertook  a  private  school.  This  was  financially 
unsuccessful,  and  in  1840  he  moved  to  Concord,  Massachusetts.  "These 
Concord  days,"  writes  his  daughter,  "were  the  happiest  of  my  life,  for  we  had 
charming  playmates  in  the  little  I'Lmersons,  Channings,  and  Hawthornes,  with 
their  illustrious  parents  to  enjoy  our  pranks  and  share  our  excursions."  In 
1842  he  undertook  a  communistic  experiment  at  a  farm  near  Concord,  where 
several  families  were  to  live  together  in  Arcadian  simplicity,  eating  no  meat, 
going  to  bed  at  sundown,  and  studying  Transcendental  philosophy.  This  soon 
came  to  an  end,  and  brought  Mr.  Alcott  to  utter  ruin  and  poverty.  It  was  at 
this  time  that  Louisa,  although  a  mere  child,  began  the  noble  and   unselfish 


672  LOUISA  M.  ALCOFT. 

efforts  to  retrieve  the  family  fortunes  to  which  her  whole  life  was  devoted. 
When  only  fifteen  she  turned  her  thoughts  to  teaching,  and  for  a  short  time  had 
a  little  school  in  the  barn  for  the  children  of  Mr.  Emerson  and  other  neighbors. 
But  her  chief  resource  was  her  pen,  which  for  several  years  she  employed  in 
writing  largely  for  the  "story  papers," — a  line  of  work  which  she  followed  only 
because  it  brought  her  money  and  was  always  open  to  her.  Soon,  however, 
her  work  began  to  be  accepted  by  the  Atlantic  Monthly  and  other  magazines  of 
reputation  ;  and  in  1861  she  published  her  first  book,  called  "  Moods."  It  was 
a  failure  at  the  time,  though  it  had  a  large  sale  when  republished  years  after- 
ward, when  her  later  books  had  made  her  name  famous.  During  the  war  she 
went  as  a  nurse  to  the  hospitals  near  Washington,  where  she  contracted  a 
severe  illness,  from  the  effects  of  which  she  never  entirely  recovered.  Her 
experiences  were  told  in  a  volume  entitled  "  Hospital  Sketches,"  which  was 
quite  popular.  Her  most  successful  book,  "  Litde  Women,"  was  published  in 
1867,  and  made  her  position  at  once  secure.  The  end  for  which  she  had 
struggled  was  attained,  and  her  beloved  parents  and  sisters  assured  of  comfort 
for  the  future. 

But  this  great  success  only  made  her  more  busy.  Following  "  Little 
Women"  came  in  rapid  succession  " An  Old-Fashioned  Girl,"  "Litde  Men," 
"Work,"  and  a  long  list  of  other  stories.  She  had  contracted  the  habit  of 
working  hard,  and  the  great  demand  for  all  that  she  could  write  resulted  in 
wearing  out  her  strength.  In  the  last  years  of  her  life  her  health  was  poor, 
though  her  bright  and  cheerful  spirit  shone  clear  and  strong  through  sickness 
and  health  alike.  She  made  two  journeys  to  Europe,  where  her  sister  May 
(the  "Amy  "  of  "  Little  Women  "  )  lived,  and  who  died  there  a  year  after  her 
marriage.  So  strong  was  the  habit  of  work  in  Miss  Alcott  that  she  hardly  laid 
down  her  pen  until  the  day  of  her  death,  which  occurred  in  August,  1888. 

Miss  Alcott  made  no  pretense  of  being  a  poet,  though  she  wrote  much  in 
verse  ;  but  once,  on  the  death  of  her  beloved  mother,  the  inspiration  of  the 
occasion  produced  the  beautiful  and  pathetic  poem,  "Transfiguration,"  one  of 
the  finest  of  her  works.  A  few  years  after  her  death  was  published  her  "  Life, 
Letters,  and  Journals,"  one  of  the  most  charming  of  American  books,  and  one 
which  should  be  read  by  every  one  who  has  laughed  and  cried  over  her 
stories,  and  learned  through  them  to  admire  and  love  the  strong  and  noble 
woman  who  wrote  them. 


i 


HORACE  GREELEY, 

THE  FOUNDER  OE  MODERN  JOURNALISM. 


HE  men  of  whom  we  love  to  read  are  those  who  stand  for 
some  great  principle,  whose  lives  and  deeds  exemplify 
its  power.  When  we  think  of  patriotism,  the  figure  of 
Washington  rises  before  us,  as  the  man  whose  life,  above 
all  others,  was  controlled  by  pure  love  of  country.  Prac- 
tical wisdom,  shrewdness,  and  thrift  are  embodied  in  Ben- 
jamin PVanklin.  Astor  and  Girard  represent  the  power 
of  accumulation  ;  Stewart,  Carnegie,  and  Pullman,  the 
power  of  organization  ;  and  so,  when  we  consider  the 
power  of  the  press,  the  image  which  comes  up  before  our 
mental  view  is  that  of  Horace  Greeley.  In  almost  every 
personal  quality  there  have  been  men  who  far  surpassed  him, — men  who  were 
greater  as  politicians,  as  organizers,  as  statesmen,  as  speakers,  as  writers, — 
but  in  the  one  respect  of  influencing  public  opinion  through  the  press,  of  "  mak- 
ing his  mind  the  mind  of  other  men,"  no  man  in  America  has  ever  wielded  such 
power  as  the  great  editor  and  founder  of  the  New  York  Tribune. 

Greeley  is  one  of  the  most  interesting  and  picturesque  characters  in  our 
history.  A  strong  individuality,  a  marked  and  peculiar  personal  flavor,  charac- 
terized all  his  words  and  acts.  Everything  he  said  or  did  was  said  or  done  in 
the  Greeley  way, — a  way  which  was  known  and  recognized  all  over  the  United 
States.  His  political  influence  was  incalculable.  Thousands  of  men  wlio  had 
never  seen  him  or  heard  his  voice  accepted  his  words  as  political  gospel.  \V.  D. 
Howells,  writing  of  his  own  boyhood  days,  tells  how  the  neighbors  gathered 
in  the  country  store  when  the  Tribune  was  received,  and,  as  it  was  opened  with 
the  words,  "Well,  let's  see  what  old  Horace  says  this  week,"  listened  with 
unquestioning  assent.  What  a  tremendous  engine  such  a  newspaper  was  can 
hardly  be  appreciated  by  those  who  did  not  live  in  the  stirring  times  "before 
the  war,"  and  who  knew  not  the  Tribune  and  Greeley  in  the  days  of  his  power. 
Horace  Greeley  was  one  of  the  poor  country  boys  who  have  afterward  be- 
come the  bone  and  sinew  of  the  republic.  He  was  born  in  Amherst,  New 
Hampshire,  in  i8i  i.  His  father,  Zaccheus  Greeley,  was  a  struggling  farmer.   He 

675 


6-76  HORACE  GREELEY. 

moved  ro  Vermont  in  1.S21,  and  a  Uiw  years  later  to  the  western  part  of  I'enn- 
sylvania.  I  lorace  was  a  precocious  child  ;  and  his  mother,  Mary  W'oodburn, 
who  was  of  Scotch-Irish  stock,  used  to  recite  to  him  Ixillads  and  stories,  so  that 
he  really  acquired  a  taste  for  literature  before  the  a_Lje  at  which  many  children 
conffuer  the  alphabet.  At  the  a^je  of  lhre(;  ht.'  went  to  school — in  batl  weather 
haviuL,^  to  be  carried  on  his  father's  shoulder  ;  but  he  had  learn(;d  to  read  even 
before  this, — sittiniL,f  by  his  mother,  with  the  book  on  \\vx  lap,  while  she  sewed  or 
knitted.  The  book  was  often  misplaced,  and  the  child  learned  to  read  with  it 
sideways  or  upside-down,  an  accomplishment  which  came  to  his  aid  when  he 
began  to  set  type.  l''or  this  business  he  possessed  another  natural  qualification 
— he  was  a  perfect  prodii^ry  at  spellinj^-.  .Such  an  excellent  reputation  did  he 
obtain  for  correct  scholarship  and  good  conduct,  that  the  school  authorities  in 
Bedford,  which  was  beyond  his  legal  ilistrict,  passed  a  unanimous  vote  "that  no 
pupils  from  other  towns  should  be  received  into  the  school  except  Horace 
Greeley  alone:  "  a  most  unusual  compliment  to  a  New  Hampshire  schoolboy. 

Li:.\KNINf;    TlIK    rRINl"i:R's   TK.\nR. 

In  his  fifteenth  year  Horace  felt  that  he  could  endure  farming  no  longer, 
and  at  last  procured  from  his  father  a  reluctant  consent  that  he  should  definitely 
seek  employment  as  a  printer.  He  found  the  longed-for  opportunity  at  I^ast 
Poultney,  X'ermont,  in  the  office  of  the  Northern  Spectator.  An  agreement  was 
made  for  Horace  to  remain  as  an  apprentice  until  twenty  years  of  age.  All  the 
money  he  received  was  forty  dollars  a  year  for  clothing,  and  out  of  this  it  was 
quite  certain  he  bought  many  books  and  very  little  else  for  himself  Though  he 
was  frecjuently  excessively  fatigued  after  his  day's  work,  he  was  never  satisfied 
until  he  had  spent  some  hours  in  study.  His  scanty  wardrobe,  unfashionable 
clothes,  and  generally  outre  appearance  often  excited  derisive  comment.  His 
annual  salary  of  forty  dollars  would  have  gone  far  in  that  place  to  enable  him 
to  make  a  presentable  appearance  had  he  spent  it  on  himself  but  instead  of  this 
he  sent  nearly  the  whole  of  it  to  his  father,  who  was  ever  in  need  of  money. 

In  1S30,  before  Horace's  apprenticeship  ended,  the  Spectator  collapsed, 
and  he  was  again  set  adrift.  His  father  had  removed  to  Western  Pennsylvania, 
and  the  boy  turned  his  face  in  that  direction.  After  working  for  a  few  months 
on  different  country  papers,  he  resolved  to  try  his  fortune  in  New  York,  and 
went  to  that  city  in  August,  1831. 

Greeley  was,  on  his  first  entrance  in  New  York,  about  twenty  years  of  age, 
tall,  slim,  pale,  with  flaxen  locks  and  pale  blue  eyes.  He  always  had  a  habit 
of  wearing  his  hat  on  the  back  of  his  head,  as  if  accustomed  to  star-gazing, 
which  gave  him,  even  late  in  life,  a  peculiarly  "green  "  look.  It  is  probable  that 
he  was  still  assisting  his  parents,  for  with  his  correct  and  temperate  habits,  there 
is  no  other  reason  why  he  should  have  come  to  the  city  without  a  respectable  suit 


liXriiRfEXCIiS  /X  XEW  YORK. 


'// 


of  clothes,  and  with  all  his  personal  effects  tied  up  in  a  hardkerchief  This 
sort  of  economy  may  he  carried  too  fir,  as  it  was  in  his  case;  ;  pre\('ntinL;  him 
from  ri^ettini,^  a  situation,  which  a  more  respectal)le  appearing  person  miL;ht  have 
obtained.  David  Hale,  editor  of  the  Journal  of  Coiiiiiicnw  to  whom  he  applied 
for  work,  took  him  for  a  runaway  apprentice,  and  plainly  told  him  so.  In  his 
search  for  a  board inj^r-ho use  he  met  with  a  soiiK-what  similar  expc^rience.  At 
the  first  house  where;  he  appli(,"d.  on  Wall  str(!et,  on  askini^  the  terms,  the 
answer  was,  "Six  dollars  a  week,  but  soniethini:;  cheaper  will  probably  suit  you 
better."  Antl  it  tlid  ;  he  wanderetl  over  to  the  north  side,  and  found,  he  said, 
"the  si^n  of  '  Pjoardin*,^ '  on  a 
humbler  edifice  ;  I  entered,  and 
wa.s  offered  shelter  and  subsist- 
ence for  $2.50  per  wei;k,  which 
seemed  more  rational,  antl  I 
closed  the  barij^ain." 

After  a  most  persistent 
search  for  work,  (ireel(,'y  at  last 
found  employment  on  a  Polyorlot 
Testament,  which  was  so  ilifficult 
and  slow  that  most  printc-rs  re- 
fused to  work  on  it.  l>y  workint^ 
twelve  and  fourteen  hours  daily, 
he  manai^ed  to  earn  six  dollars  a 
week.  For  months  he  plodiled 
alonof  in  this  manner,  not  always 
havinii;-  employment.  In  January, 
1832,  he  procured  a  situation  on 
the  Spirit  of  I  he  Tinn's,  \.\\v.  fore- 
man of  which,  ]•".  \'.  -Story,  after- 
ward became  his  partner.  The 
young  firm  hired   rooms  on   i\\v. 

corner  of  Nassau  and  Liberty  streets.  Their  principal  dependence  was  the 
printing"  of  .Sylvester's  Jiiiiik-noic  Reporter.  All  the  money  invested  by  Cireeley 
and  .Story  was  about  $240,  Mr.  George  Hruce,  the  type  founder,  granting  them 
credit  for  some  additional  material.  Mr.  .Story  was  tlrowned  in  Jiuie,  1S33. 
His  place  in  the  business  was  supplied  by  Mr.  Jonas  Winchester,  and  early  the 
next  spring  (March,  1834)  Mr.  Greeley  commenced  his  first  editorial  work,  the 
firm  publishing  a  weekly  paper  called  the  AVa'  Yorker,  which  lasted  until  the 
March  of  1S41,  when  it  went  imder,  with  a  credit  on  its  books  of  510,000  due 
to  Mr,  Greeley  for  editing  the  paper,  all  of  which  was  sunk  with  the  wreck. 
But  the  debts  which  the  firm  owed  to  others  troubled  him  far  more  than  what 


WII.I.IAM    HENRY    HARRISON. 


678  HORACE  GREELEY. 

he.  lost  in  the  concern  himself.  1  lis  expressions  on  this  subject  are  pathetic  in 
their  intensity.  "  I'Or  my  own  |)art,"  lie  says,  "and  1  speak  from  sad  e.xperi- 
encc,  I  would  rather  be  a  convict  in  State's  prison,  a  slave  in  a  rice-swamp, 
than  to  pass  through  life  under  the  liarrow  of  ile-bt.  If  you  have  but  fifty 
cents,  and  can  541!  no  more:  for  a  week,  buy  a  peck  of  corn,  parch  it,  and  live 
on  it,  rather  than  owe  any  man  a  dollar." 

In  the  famous  campaign  of  1S40,  when  Harrison  was  "suni,^  and  shouted 
into  the  presidential  cliair,"  Cireeley  started  a  small  weekly  calU:d  the  Lo}i 
Cabin.  He  threw  all  his  spirit  and  eiu.rj^y  into  it  ;  he  made  it  lively,  crisp,  and 
cheap.  It  attained  an  almost  unheard-of  success,  reachintr  editions  of  ei<;hty 
and  ninety  thousand.  It  was  continued  for  several  months  after  the  triumphant 
election  of  Harrison,  and  then  merged  into  the  New  York  Tribune,  which 
Greeley  started  at  this  time,  the  first  issue  appearinij  Ajjril  10,  1841. 

cKKr.i.KV  AND  Till;  "rKnn.Ni;." 

The  new  enterprise  soon  became  successful.  It  was  helped  at  the  start  by 
a  bitter  attack  from  the  Sun,  then  in  the  hands  of  Moses  Y.  Heach.  The  de- 
fense and  rejoinders  were  equally  pungent  and  amusing.  Mr.  Greeley  always 
throve  best  upon  opposition.  His  spicy  retorts,  and  especially  his  partisan  en- 
thusiasm, forced  the  attention  of  the  public,  and  the  subscription-list  of  the 
Tribune  soon  rose  from  hundreds  to  thousands  ;  by  the  third  week  in  May  it  had 
10,000  names  on  its  books.  New  and  more  powerful  presses  had  to  be  bought 
to  work  off  these  large  editions.  Advertisers  came  rushing  in,  and  it  became 
absolutely  necessary  for  the  overwhelmed  editor  to  seek  a  business  partner. 
The  Tribune  office  would  soon  have  become  a  modern  spectacle  of  chaos  had 
not  its  financial  affairs  been  taken  in  hand  by  a  competent  financier.  This 
"  good  angel  of  the  profit  and  loss  account  "  was  Mr.  Thomas  Mcl^lrath,  through 
whose  efficiency  and  good  management  was  soon  brought  order  out  of  confu- 
sion, making  the  "  Tribune  office  not  only  one  of  the  best  conducted,  but  one 
of  the  best  paying  in  the  city." 

Greeley  was  now  in  his  element.  Political  and  social  discussion  were  the 
breath  of  his  nostrils  ;  and  under  his  hand  the  Tribune  quickly  became  the  most 
interesting  paper  in  the  country,  as  well  as  the  most  powerful.  Mr.  Greeley 
was  a  very  earnest  and  emphatic  writer  ;  it  was  impossible  to  mistake  his  mean- 
ing ;  he  had  positive  opinions  on  all  subjects  upon  which  he  touched.  Hence 
he  drew  devoted  followers  and  admirers  on  the  one  side,  while  exciting  the  most 
bitter  opposition  from  the  unconvinced.  He  was  the  most  pugnacious  of  edit- 
ors, and  was  much  stronger  in  a  fight  than  when  unopposed. 

One  thing  which  undoubtedly  tended  to  bring  the  Tribune  into  prominence 
was  Greeley's  tendency  toward  "  isms."  He  always  had  something  to  say  about 
new  social,  industrial,  and  religious  theories,  and  was  very  apt  to  advocate  them. 


Si'CCIiSS  OF  THE  "  TRinCXF.." 


6/9 


In  this  direction  he  was  much  inlUienced  by  his  wife,  whom  he  had  married  in 
J'lly,  1836.  She  was  a  huly  deeply  imbued  with  the  ultra-transcendentalism  of 
the  period  ;  she  was  also  a  vejrctarian,  and  in  many  respects  held  eccentric  and 
unusual  views.  Horace  Greeley  was  dtn-oted  to  her.  It  was,  perhaps,  in  a 
measure  due  to  her  influence  that  Mr.  Greeley  took  up  with  such  zeal  the  cause 
of  I'ourierism,  be- 
coming a  devoted 
follower  ami  ex- 
poniMit  of  this 
theory  for  reor- 
ganizing society. 
Mrs.  Greeley  was 
one  of  those  who 
joined  in  the 
"  Brook  barm  ex- 
periment," a  de- 
velopment of 
Fourierism  in 
Massachusetts, 
which  was  a  rather 
ludicrous  failure. 

One  thiniif  in 
particular  gave 
the  Tribune  emi- 
nence ;  that  was 
Greeley's  policy 
of  employing  as 
contributors  the 
best  writers  of 
the  time.  To 
name  all  the  able 
men  and  women 
who  thus  won 
fame  for  both 
themselves  and 
the  Tr  i b u u e , 
would  make  a  list 

too  long  to  print ;  but  among  them  may  be  mentioned  Bayard  Taylor,  whose 
"Views  Afoot"  first  appeared  in  the  form  of  letters  to  the  Tribune  ;  Margaret 
Fuller,  whose  articles  gave  her  a  wide  reputation  ;  George  Ripley,  Moncure  D. 
Conway,  Sydney  Howard  Gay,  and  George  W.  Smalley  ;  and  for  years  Thomas 


WniTF.I-AW    RF.in,   OREEI.EY'S   successor   as   editor   of   the  "TRini'NE," 


(jHo  //ok.  I  a-  (;/</•:/■/./■)'. 

1  IiiL^Iics,  the  popular  author  of  "  I'oin  liroun  at  Oxford,"  sent  frfiqiicnt  and 
al)l(-  If^ttrrs  from  London.  Ww.  result  of  this  liln-ral  policy  was  to  iiiakc  the 
'/'rihuitc  indispcnsablL'  to  pcopU'  of  iiUclli^encc,  even  ihoiij^h  utterly  opposed  to 
its  political  views. 

In  iSiS,  when  (icncral  Zachary  Taylor,  "the  hereof  Huena  \'ista,"  was 
elected  President,  (ireeley  was  chosen  as  member  of  Conj^nH'ss  from  New  York 
city.  1  le  made  no  effort  to  s(;cure  the  election,  antl  when  consulted  by  a 
fellow-candidate,  Mr.  Hrooks,  as  to  what  should  be  done  to  accomplish  it,  he 
said  to  his  messenjrer,  "Tell  Mr.  Hrooks  that  we  have  only  to  keep  still,  and 
General  Taylor  will  carry  us  both  in."  Mr.  (ireelcy's  presence  in  Cont.,rress 
was  soon  f(,'lt.  I  le  discovered  that  it  was  th(.'  custom  with  members  of  Compress 
to  chancre  "  milea_L((!  "  by  loni;  and  circuitous  rout(;s  from  their  hom(!s  to  Wash- 
ington ;  and  he  soon  made  owv.  of  the  greatest  newspaper  "  hits  "  of  the  time 
by  publishing  in  the  fribuHc  a  complete  statement  of  what  each  member 
would  receive  if  his  mileage  were  computed  by  the  shortest  mail  route,  along- 
siile  of  the  amount  he  actually  tlid  receive.  It  may  be  imagined  that  that  issue 
of  the  paper  had  a  large  sale  in  Washington,  and  for  some  time  there  was  a 
great  deal  of  "rising  to  e.xplain  "  by  honorable  members.  Mr.  Greeley  also 
introduced  a  "  Homestead  bill,"  which  years  afterwartl  became  one  of  the 
most  popular  measures  ever  passed  by  Congress,  but  which  then  received  not 
a  single  vote  beside  his  own  ! 

TIIK    Vi:.\KS    HKl-ORK    TIIK    WAR. 

But  Greeley's  strength  was  as  a  journalist,  not  as  a  legislator.  At  the 
close  of  his  brief  term  he  retired  from  Congress,  and  during  the  stormy  decade 
preceding  th'i  civil  war  he  made  the  Tribune  a  mighty  power.  He  warmly 
espoused  the  cause  of  freedom,  and  denounced  the  Fugitive  Slave  Law,  the 
Kansas-Nebraska  bill,  and  the  endless  aggressions  of  the  slave  power  with  a 
vigor  and  pertinacity  which  made  him  one  of  the  best-hated  men  in  America. 
His  course  was  not  always  consistent  ;  and  he  often  brought  upon  his  head  the 
wrath  of  friends  as  well  as  enemies.  Moreover,  in  the  conduct  of  a  great  daily 
paper  much  nuust  be  left  to  the  judgment  of  subordinates  ;  and  all  their  mis- 
takes were,  of  course,  laid  to  the  charge  of  their  chief.  Many  of  the  old  readers 
of  the  Tru/Huc  supposed  that  every  line  in  the  paper  was  actually  written  by 
Horace  (ireeley.  He  rarely  took  the  trouble  to  justify  or  explain  ;  and  there- 
tore,  while  in  one  senso  one  of  the  best  known  men  in  the  country,  he  was  one 
of  the  most  misunderstood.  Mr.  Greeley  had  no  time  or  thought  for  personal 
explanations  ;  he  was  bent  upon  saving  the  country, — individuals  could  take 
care  of  themselves. 

louring  the  war  Mr.  Greeley's  course  was  somewhat  erratic  and  unstable, 
The  Tribune  had  been  considered  in  the  South  an   "  Abolition  "  paper  ;  Mr. 


ins  cvf'Rs/-  ncR/xa  the  war. 


6S| 


Greeley  had  condemned  .ill  thr  preliminary  mDvcimiUs  of  thr  secessionists,  and 
had  come  very  ne.ir  demandinL;  the  inii)ca(  liiniiu  oi  rnsidcnl  Unehanaii.  just 
at  the  crisis,  when  (;very  word  h-oin  an  inlliiential  source  was  potent  to  turn  the 
scale  for  nood  or  evil,  (ire(;l(;y  astounded  and  dismayed  the  lo\al,  and  put  a 
ready  weapon  into  tlu;  hand  of  secession,  by  liis  ill  timed,  ill  considered  article, 
"  Let  the  South  ( io  !  "  Tht;  advocates  of  secession  were  triumphant,  and  con- 
chided  that  if  the  l^ihiinc  was  willini^  to  "  L('t  the  crrini;'  sisters  i^o  in  peace," 
other  people  mij^ht  he  depended  upon  to  accpiiesce.  The-  immediate  result  of 
that  article  was  to  cause  rifty  Southern  officers  in  New  York  to  vote  that  they 
"  resii^Mi  their  commissions  in  the 
L'nitctd  States  army  and  join  their 
brethren  in  the  South."  Hut  no 
sooner  had  these  men  taken  his 
advice,  and  the  "  errinjj^  sisters " 
attempted  to  ".y^o,"  than  the  Tri- 
biiiic  was  the  first  to  try  to  pull 
them  forcibly  back  a^^ain. 

Before  the  administration  was 
ready  with  its  plans,  before;  the 
Union  army  was  drilled  or  properly 
ori^^anized,  Mr.  (ireeley  broke  out 
with  his  famous  war-cry,  "On  to 
Richmond  ! "  which  undoubtedly 
did  much  to  precipitate  the  disaster 
of  Hull  Run.  Then,  whtm  the 
Union  cause  lookeil  dark,  "  de- 
spairinu,''  of  the  republic,"  he  rushed 
to  Canada  to  discuss,  unauthorized, 
with  Confederate  envoys,  terms  for 
a  treaty  of  peace  disirraceful  and 
injurious  to  the  United  States  ;  yet 
all  this  time  the  tribune  flourished. 
After  the  war  closed  it  received  another  shock,  \\\\v.n  one;  morniniL,^  its  reatlers 
learned  that  its  senior  editor  had  \^o\u-.  to  Richmond  to  offer  bail  for  Ji;lferson 
Davis.  Mr.  Greeley  afterward  justified  his  action  with  much  force  ;  but  at  the 
time  it  seemed  utterly  unaccountable.  Throuirhout  all  these;  terL;iversations, 
however,  he  kept  a  hold  upon  a  lar>;e  class  of  readers  who  believed  in  him,  to 
whom  he  was  a  mental  and  moral  lawt^iver,  who  refuseil  to  believe  any  evil 
of  him ;  and,  if  some  visitor  to  the  city — for  a  larj^e  proportion  of  Tribune 
readers  were  country,  and  particularly  Western,  people — on  cominj^  back, 
reported   that   in   an    interview  with   Mr.   Greeley  the   edit(jr   had   indulged  in 


JF.FFERSOV    PAVIS. 


682 


HORACl-:  GREELhY. 


unlimit('(l   profanity,   ilu;  unlucky  individual  was  incontinently  discredited  and 
voted  a  calumniator. 

In   the  years  lollo\vin<,r  the  war,  ( ireelt-y's  pen  was  mort;   busy  than  ever, 
licside  his  editorial  writing  in  the  Tribune,  he  prepared  the  second  volume  of 


CKKKNWdill)    CKMIIKKV. 


his  war  history,  "The  American  Conflict,"  and  his  delightful  autobiography, 
"Recollections  of  a  Busy  Life."  He  was  always  intensely  interested  in  the 
growth  of  the  West,  where  he  had  made  a  memorable  tour  in  1859,  extending 
to  Salt  Lake  City  ;  and  now  he  unceasingly  advocated  w^estern  emigration. 
His  terse  advice,    "Go  West,   young  man,  and  grow   up  with  the  country," 


THE  CAMPAIGN  OF  1S73.  683 

became  a  sort  of  national  watchword,  and  many  thousands  of  eastern  people 
resolved  to  turn  their  faces  toward  the  empire  of  the  West. 

In  1S72  a  curious  political  combination  was  maile.  Probably  such  a  sur- 
prise was  never  sprung-  ui)on  the  country  as  the  nomination  of  Horace  (ireeley 
for  th(!  Presidency,  by  a  convention  of  "  Libe-ral  Republicans"  and  boltini^ 
Democrats,  That  he  should  be  dek^ated  at  the  polls  was  inevitable.  .Slranj,je 
to  say,  his  experience  as  an  editor,  his  own  denunciations  of  political  opponents, 
had  not  prepared  him  for  the  bitter  attacks  which  wi-re  macU;  upon  him.  lie 
could  not  diijest  the  ridicule  of  the  caricaturists,  who,  it  is  safe  to  say,  never 
before  had  such  a  temptiuL,'-  opportunity.  He  worked  hard  throuj^h  the  canvass, 
travelinj^  and  adilressinjj;^  meetins^s  ;  body  and  mind  suffered  from  the  fatis^ue 
and  excitement.  To  add  to  his  troubU.'s,  Mrs.  Greeley,  who  had  been  out  of 
health  for  a  considerable  time,  died  at  this  period  ;  he  watched  ovi  r  her  day 
and  nitrht,  obtainini,'-  very  little  sleep,  and  altoi^^ether  the  burden  became  too 
great  for  him  to  bear.  His  health  Ljave  way;  Ik;  became  viabU^  to  sleep  ; 
and  sleeplessness  was  foUoweil  by  inllammation  of  the  brain,  which  soon  ended 
his  life,  lu'erythini^  which  medical  skill  and  attention,  with  the  loviuL^  care  of 
his  two  devoted  daughters,  could  do,  was  done  ;  but  all  was  unavailing.  A 
short  time  before  his  death,  the  terrible  delirium  incidcMit  to  his  disease  sub- 
sided, and  he  became  himself  once  more.  After  some  hours  of  calm  and 
serene  rest,  with  his  faculties  restored,  he  passed  quietly  away,  repeating  the 
sublime  words  of  Job,  "I  know  that  my  Redeemer  liveth." 

Horace  Greeley  sleeps  in  Greenwood  Cemetery,  Long  Island,  on  a  hill  over- 
looking the  beautiful  bay  of  New  York,  and  within  sight  of  the  great  city  where 
his  busy  life  was  spent.  In  the  centre  of  the  plot  stands  a  granite  pedestal,  on 
which  is  a  portrait  bust  of  heroic  size,  showing  the  upper  part  of  his  figure,  in 
the  historic  white  overcoat,  with  the  front  thrown  back,  e.xposing  to  view  the 
inner  pocket,  filled  with  letters  and  papers.  This  monument  was  erected  by 
the  printers  of  New  York,  the  bust  and  the  two  tablets  on  the  sides  of  the 
pedestal  being  of  type  metal.  On  one  of  the  tablets  is  the  figure  of  a  young 
man  setting  type,  his  "  stick"  in  his  left  hand,  the  right  resting  on  the  "case." 
On  the  other  tablet  is  the  inscription  : — 

HORACE   GREELEY. 


BORN  February  3d,  1811. 
Died  November  29th,  1872. 


Founder  of  the  New  York  Tribune. 


" "frwii 

ilililjiiiiiiiliiililr 


liliiliin;,vi,;;;iii;ii;^.a;sii;£:..K^^^^ 


HARRIET   BEECHER   STOWE, 

AUTHOR    OK    THE    MOST    PORULAR    AMERICAN     NOVEL,. 

EW  names  are  more  indelibly  written  upon  our  country's 

history  than  that  of  Harriet  Beecher  Stowe.     "  No  book," 

says  George  William  Curtis,  "  was  ever  more  a  historical 

event  than    'Uncle   Tom's    Cabin.'  ...  It   is   the   great 

happiness  of  Mrs.  Stowe  not  only  to  have  written  many 

delightful  books,  but  to  have  written  one  book  which  will 

always  be   famous   not  only  as  the   most  vivid   picture  of 

an   extinct  evil  system,  but  as  one  of  the  most  powerful 

influences  in  overthrowing  it.  .  .  .  If  all  whom  she   has 

charmed  and  quickened  should  unite  to  sing  her  praises,  the 

birds  of  summer  would  be  outdone." 

Harriet  Beecher  Stowe  was  the  sixth  child  of  Reverend 
Lyman  Beecher, — the  great  head  of  that  great  family  which  has 
left  so  deep  an  impress  upon  the  heart  and  mind  of  the  American  people.  She 
was  born  in  Litchfield,  Connecticut,  in  June,  1811, — just  two  years  before  her 
next  younger  brother,  Henry  Ward  Beecher.  Her  father  was  pastor  of  the 
Congregational  Church  in  Litchfield,  and  her  girlhood  was  passed  there  and  at 
Hartford,  where  she  attended  the  excellent  seminary  kept  by  her  elder  sister, 
Catharine  E.  Beecher.  In  1832  her  father  accepted  a  call  to  the  presidency  of 
Lane  Theological  Seminary,  at  Cincinnati,  and  moved  thither  with  his  family. 
Catharine  Beecher  went  also,  and  established  there  a  new  school,  under  the 
name  of  the  Western  Female  Institute,  in  which  Harriet  assisted. 

In  1833  ^'■''S-  Stowe  first  had  the  subject  of  slavery  brought  to  her  personal 
notice  by  taking  a  trip  across  the  river  from  Cincinnati  into  Kentucky  in  company 
with  Miss  Dutton.  one  of  the  associate  teachers  in  the  Western  Institute.  They 
visited  the  estate  that  afterward  figured  as  that  of  Mr.  Shelby,  in  "  LIncle  Tom's 
Cabin,"  and  here  the  young  authoress  first  came  into  personal  contact  with  the 
slaves  of  the  South.  In  speaking,  many  years  afterward,  of  this  visit,  Miss 
Dutton  said  :  "  Harriet  did  not  seem  to  notice  anything  in  particular  that  hap. 
pened,  but  sat  much  of  the  time  as  though  abstracted  in  thought.  When  the 
negroes  did  funny  things,   and  cut  up  capers,   she  did  not  seem  to  pay  the 

687 


6S8 


HARRIET  BEECHER  STOIVE. 


slij,Witest  attention  to  them.  Afterwanl,  however,  in  reading  '  Uncle  Tom,'  I 
recognized  scene  after  scene  of  that  visit  portrayed  with  the  most  minute 
fidehty,  and  knew  at  once  where  the  material  for  that  portion  of  the  story  had 
been  gathered." 

Harriet  Beecher's  life  in  Cincinnati  was  such  as  to  bring  out  all  that  was 
best  and  noblest  in  her  character.  Where  her  father's  family  was,  she  could  not 
lack  good  society,  for  all  that  was  best  intellectually  and  socially  always  gath- 


NKGRO   VII.I.ACK    IN    CKORGIA. 


ered  naturally  around  that  centre.  Among  the  professors  in  Lane  Seminary 
was  Calvin  1^.  Stowe,  whose  wife,  a  dear  friend  of  Miss  Beecher,  died  soon 
after  Dr.  Beecher's  removal  to  Cincinnati.  In  1836  Professor  Stowe  and  Har- 
riet Beecher  were  married.  They  were  admirably  suited  to  each  other.  Pro- 
fessor Stowe  was  a  typical  man  of  letters, — a  learned,  amiable,  unpractical 
philosopher,  whose  philosophy  was  like  that  described  by  Shakespeare  as  "an 
excellent  horse  in  the  stable,  but  an  arrant  jade  on  a  journey."     Her  practical 


SECURING  A  SLAVE'S  EREEDOM.  689 

ability  and  cheerful,  inspirinsj^  courage  were  the  unfailing  support  of  her  hus- 
band. Soon  after  their  marriage  he  sailed  for  Europe  to  purchase  books  for 
Lane  Seminary,  and  in  a  characteristic  letter  given  to  him  at  parting,  not  to  be 
opened  unlii  he  was  at  sea,  she  charges  him,  "Set  your  face  like  a  llint  against 
the  '  cultivation  of  indigo,'  as  IClizabeth  calls  it,  in  any  way  or  shai)e.  .  .  . 
Seriously,  dear  one,  you  must  give  more  way  to  hope  than  to  memory.  You 
are  going  to  a  new  scene  now,  and  one  that  I  hope  will  be  full  of  enjoyment  to 
you.     I  want  you  to  take  the  good  of  it." 

In  1839  Mrs.  Stowe  received  into  her  family  as  a  servant  a  colored  girl  from 
Kentucky.  By  the  laws  of  Ohio  she  was  free,  having  been  brought  into  the 
State  and  left  there  by  her  mistress.  In  spite  of  this.  Professor  Stowe  received 
word,  after  she  had  lived  with  them  some  months,  that  the  girl's  master  was  in 
the  city  looking  for  her,  and  that  if  she  were  not  careful  she  would  be  seized 
and  taken  back  into  slavery.  Finding  that  this  could  be  accomplished  by  bold- 
ness, perjury,  and  the  connivance  of  some  unscrupulous  justice  of  the  peace, 
Professor  Stowe  determined  to  remove  the  girl  to  some  place  of  security  where 
she  might  remain  until  the  search  for  her  should  be  given  up.  Accordingly,  he 
and  his  brother-in-law,  Henry  Ward  Beecher,  both  armed,  drove  the  fugitive,  in 
a  covered  wagon,  at  night,  by  unfrequented  roads,  twelve  miles  back  into  the 
country,  and  left  her  in  safety  with  the  family  of  old  John  Van  Zandt,  the  fugi- 
tive's friend. 

It  is  from  this  incident  of  real  life  and  personal  e.xperience  that  Mrs.  Stowe 
conceived  the  thrilling  episode  of  Eliza's  escape  from  Tom  Loker  and  Marks,  in 
"  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin." 

In  the  spring  of  1832  Mrs.  Stowe  visited  Hartford,  taking  her  six-year-old 
daughter  Hatty  with  her.  In  writing  from  there  to  her  husband  she  confides 
some  of  her  literary  plans  and  aspirations  to  him,  and  he  answers  : — 

"  My  dear,  you  must  be  a  literary  woman.  It  is  so  written  in  the  book  of 
fate.  Make  all  your  calculations  accordingly.  Get  up  a  good  stock  of  health, 
and  brush  up  your  mind.  Drop  the  E  out  of  your  name.  It  only  encumbers  it 
and  interferes  with  the  flow  ami  euphony.  Write  yourself  fully  and  always 
Harriet  Beecher  Stowe,  which  is  a  name  euphonious,  flowing,  and  full  of  mean- 
ing. Then,  my  word  for  it,  your  husband  will  lift  up  his  head  in  the  gates,  and 
your  children  will  rise  up  and  call  you  blessed." 

The  letter  closes  with  a  characteristic  appeal : — 

"And  now,  my  dear  wife,  I  want  you  to  come  home  as  quick  as  you  can.  Tlie  fact  is  I  can- 
not live  without  you,  and  if  w«  were  not  so  prodigious  poor  I  would  come  for  you  at  once.  There  is 
no  woman  like  you  in  this  wide  world.  Who  else  has  so  much  talent,  with  so  little  self-conceit; 
so  much  reputation,  with  so  little  affectation  ;  so  much  literature  with  so  little  non:;ense,  so  much 
enterprise  with  so  little  extravagance,  so  much  tongue  with  so  little  scold,  so  much  swettuess  with  so 
little  softness,  so  much  of  so  many  things  and  so  little  of  so  many  other  things?  " 


6yo  HARRIET  B  EEC  HER  STOWE. 

That  Professor  Stowe's  devoted  admiration  for  his  wife  was  reciprocated, 
and  that  a  most  perfect  sympathy  of  feelin^j  existed  between  the  husband  and 
wife,  is  shown  by  a  line  in  one  of  Mrs.  Stowe's  letters  from  Hartford,  in  which 
she  says  :  "  I  was  tellinj^r  Hclle  yesterday  that  I  did  not  know  till  I  came  away 
how  much  I  was  dependent  upon  you  for  information.  There  are  a  thousand 
favorite  subjects  on  which  I  could  talk  with  you  better  than  with  any  one  else. 
If  you  were  not  already  my  dearly  loved  husband  I  should  certainly  fall  in  love 
with  you." 

The  years  from  1845  to  1850  were  a  time  of  severe  trial  to  Mrs.  Stowe. 
She  and  her  husband  both  suffered  from  ill  health,  and  the  family  was  separated. 
Professor  Stowe  was  struggling  with  poverty,  and  endeavoring  at  the  same  time 
to  lift  the  Theological  Seminary  out  of  financial  difficulties.  In  1849,  while  Pro- 
fessor Stowe  was  ill  at  a  water-cure  establishment  in  Vermont,  their  youngest 
child  died  of  cholera,  which  was  then  raging  in  Cincinnati.  In  1850  it  was 
decided  to  remove  to  Brunswick,  Maine,  the  seat  of  Bowdoin  College,  where 
Professor  Stowe  was  offered  a  position  ;  and  in  April  Mrs.  Stowe,  with  three 
of  her  five  children,  started  on  the  long  and  toilsome  journey,  leaving  her  hus- 
band with,  the  other  two  to  follow  a  few  months  later.  Their  household  goods 
were  shipped  at  the  same  time,  and  Mrs.  Stowe,  under  the  pressure  of  poverty 
and  in  delicate  health,  undertook  all  the  labor  and  responsibility  of  establishing 
their  new  home.  Early  in  the  summer  her  husband  joined  her,  and  in  July 
her  son  Charles  was  born.     In  a  letter  written  about  this  time  she  says  : — 

"Sarah,  when  I  look  back,  I  wonder  at  myself,  not  that  I  forget  any  one  thing  that  I  should 
remember,  but  that  I  have  remembered  anything.  From  the  time  that  I  left  Cincinnati  with  my 
children  to  come  forth  to  a  country  that  I  knew  not  of,  almost  to  the  present  time,  it  seemed  as  if 
I  could  scarcely  breathe,  I  was  so  pressed  with  care.  My  head  dizzy  with  the  whirl  of  railroads  and 
steamboats ;  then  ten  days'  sojourn  in  Boston,  and  a  constant  toil  and  hurry  in  buying  my  furniture 
and  equipments;  then  landing  in  Brunswick  in  the  midst  of  a  drizzly,  inexorable  northeast  storm, 
and  beginning  the  work  of  getting  in  order  a  deserted,  dreary,  damp  old  house.   .   .   . 

"  Then  comes  a  letter  from  my  husband  saying  he  is  sick  abed,  and  all  but  dead  ;  don't  ever 
expect  to  see  his  family  again  ;  wants  to  know  how  I  shall  manage  in  case  I  am  left  a  widow  ;  knows 
we  shall  get  in  debt  and  never  get  out ;  wonders  at  my  courage,  thinks  I  am  very  sanguine,  wants 
me  to  be  prudent,  as  there  won't  be  much  to  live  on  in  case  of  his  death,  etc..  etc.,  etc.  I  read 
the  letter  and  poke  it  into  the  stove,  and  proceed.".   .  . 

Few  women  under  such  circumstances  would  think  of  undertaking  literary 
work  ;  yet  it  was  in  the  midst  of  these  events  that  the  great  work  of  Mrs. 
Stowe's  life  began  to  take  definite  shape  in  her  mind. 

The  year  1850  is  memorable  in  the  history  of  the  conflict  with  slavery.  It 
was  the  year  of  Clay's  compromise  measures,  as  they  were  called,  which  sought 
to  satisfy  the  North  by  the  admission  of  California  as  a  free  State,  and  to  pro- 
pitiate the  South  by  the  notorious  "Fugitive  Slave  Law."  The  slave  power 
was  at  its  height,  and  seemed  to  hold  all  things  under  its  feet ;  yet  in  truth  it 


THE  ORIGIN  OF  "UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN:'  691 

had  entered  upon  the  last  stai^e  of  its   existence,   and  the   forces  were  fast 
gatherinjr  for  its  final  overthrow. 

EFFlvCTS   OK    THE    FUdlTIVK    SI. AVI-     LAW. 

After  the  passajje  of  the  Fugitive  Slave  Act,  letter  after  letter  was  received 
by  Mrs.  Stowe,  in  Brunswick,  from  Mrs.  Edward  Heccher  and  other  friends, 
describing  the  heart-rending  scenes  which  were  the  inevitable  results  of  the 
enforcement  of  this  terrible  law.  Cities  were  more  available  for  capturing 
escaped  slaves  than  the  country,  and  Boston,  which  claimed  the  "cradle  of 
liberty,"  Faneuil  Hall,  opened  her  doors  to  the  slave-hunters.  The  sorrow  and 
anguish  caused  thereby  no  pen  could  describe.  Families  of  colored  people  were 
broken  up.  Some  hid  in  garrets  and  cellars.  Some  tied  to  the  wharves  and 
embarked  in  ships  and  sailed  for  Europe.  Others  went  to  Canada.  One  poor 
fellow,  who  was  doing  good  business  as  a  crockery  merchant,  and  supporting 
his  family  well,  when  he  got  notice  that  his  master,  whom  he  had  left  many 
years  before,  was  after  him,  set  out  for  Canada  in  midwinter  on  foot,  as  he  did 
not  dare  to  take  a  public  conveyance.  He  froze  both  feet  on  the  journey,  and 
they  had  to  be  amputated.  Mrs.  E^dward  Beecher,  in  a  letter  to  Mrs.  Stowe's 
son,  writing  of  this  period,  says: — 

"  I  had  been  nourishing  an  anti-slavery  spirit  since  Lovejoy  was  murdered  for  publishing  in 
his  paper  articles  against  slavery  and  intemperance,  when  our  home  was  in  Illinois.  These  terrible 
things  which  were  going  on  in  Boston  were  well  calculated  to  rouse  up  this  spirit.  What  can  I  do? 
I  thought.  Not  much  myself,  but  I  know  one  who  can.  So  I  wrote  several  letters  to  your  mother, 
telling  her  of  various  heart-rending  events  caused  by  the  enforcement  of  the  Fugitive  Slave  Law. 
I  remember  distinctly  saying  in  one  of  them,  'Now,  Hattie,  if  I  could  use  a  pen  as  you  can,  I 
would  write  something  that  would  make  this  whole  nation  feci  what  an  accursed  thing  slavery  is.' 

"  When  we  lived  in  Boston  your  mother  often  visited  us.  .  .  .  Several  numbers  of  '  Uncle 
Tom's  Cabin  '  were  written  in  your  Uncle  Edward's  study  at  these  times  and  read  to  us  from 
manuscripts." 

A  member  of  Mrs.  Stowe's  family  well  remembers  the  scene  in  the  little 
parlor  in  Brunswick  when  the  letter  alluded  to  was  received.  Mrs.  Stowe  her- 
self read  it  aloud  to  the  assembled  family,  and  when  she  came  to  the  passage, 
"  I  would  write  something  that  would  make  this  whole  nation  feel  what  an 
accursed  thing  slavery  is,"  Mrs.  Stowe  rose  from  her  chair,  crushing  the  letter 
in  her  hand,  and  with  an  expression  on  her  face  that  stamped  itself  on  the  mind 
of  her  child,  said :  "  I  luill  write  .something.     I  will,  if  I  live." 

This  was  the  origin  of  "Uncle  Tom's  Cabin."  Professor  Cairnes  and 
others  said  truly,  "The  Fugitive  Slave  Law  has  been  to  the  slave  power  a 
questionable  gain.     Among  its  first  fruits  was  '  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin.'  " 

It  was  in  the  month  of  February  after  these  words  were  written  that  Mrs. 
Stowe  was  seated  at  the  communion  service  in  the  college  church  at  Brunswick. 
Suddenly,  like  the  unrolling  of  a  picture,  the  scene  of  the  death  of  Uncle  Tom 


692 


HARRIET  BEECH fiR  STOU'E. 


passed  before  her  mind.  So  stron,i,dy  was  she  affected  that  it  was  with  difficulty 
she  could  kee[j  from  weepip},r  aloud.  Immediately  on  returninj^  home  she  took 
pen  and  paper  and  wrote  (.nt  the  vision  which  had  been  as  it  were  blown  into 
her  mind  "  as  by  the  rushinjr  of  a  mighty  wind."  (iathering  her  little  family 
about  her,  she  read  what  she  had  written.  Her  two  little  ones  of  ten  and  twelve 
years  of  ai,fe  broke  into  convulsions  of  weepin_<i;-,  one  of  them  sayinjj;-  through  his 
sobs,  "Oh,  mamma!  slavery  is  the  most  cruel  thing  in  the  world."  Thus 
"Uncle  Tom"  was  ushered  into  the  world.  It  was  a  cry,  an  immediate,  invol- 
untary expression  of  deep,  impas- 
sioned feeling. 

Twenty-five  years  afterward 
Mrs.  Stowe  wrote,  in  a  letter  lo 
one  of  her  children,  of  this  period 
of  her  life  :  "  I  well  remember  the 
winter  you  were  a  baby,  and  I  was 
writing  '  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin.'  My 
heart  was  bursting  with  the  anguish 
excited  by  the  cruelty  and  injustice 
our  nation  was  showing  to  the  slave, 
and  praying  God  to  let  me  do  a 
little,  and  to  cause  my  cry  for  them 
to  be  heard.  I  remember  many  a 
night  weeping  over  you  as  you  lay 
sleeping  beside  me,  and  thought 
of  the  slave  mothers  whose  babes 
were  torn  from  them." 

The  story  was  begun  as  a 
serial  in  the  Ahitional  Era,  June  5, 
1S51,  and  was  announced  to  run  for 
about  three  months,  but  it  was  not 
completed  in  that  paper  until  April 
1,  1852.  It  had  been  contemplated 
as  a  mere  magazine  tale  of  perhaps  a  dozen  chapters,  but  once  begun  it  could 
no  more  be  controlled  than  the  waters  of  the  swollen  Mississippi,  bursting 
through  a  crevasse  in  its  levees.  The  intense  interest  excited  by  the  story,  the 
demands  made  upon  the  author  for  more  facts,  the  unmeasured  words  of 
encouragement  to  keep  on  in  her  good  work  that  poured  in  from  all  sides,  and, 
above  all,  the  ever-growing  conviction  that  she  had  been  intrusted  with  a  great 
and  holy  mission,  compelled  her  to  keep  on  until  the  humble  tale  had  assumed 
the  proportions  of  a  large  volume.  Mrs.  Stowe  repeatedly  said,  "I  could  not 
control  the  story,  it  wrote  itself ;  "  and,  "  I  the  author  of  '  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin '  ? 


JOHN    BROWN,  WHO   WAS   IIANCED   IN  I Sj^  FOR  AN   ATTF.Ml'T 
TO    LIliKRATK    TlIK    SLAVES. 


PRAISE  AXD  AliUSE.  693 

No,  indeed.     The  Lord  himself  wrote  it.  and  I  was  l)iit  the  humblest  of  instru- 
ments in  his  hand.     To  him  alone  should  be  ^iven  all  the  praise." 

I'^jr  the  story  as  a  serial  the  author  recc-ive'd  $300.  In  the  meantime,  how- 
ever, it  hatl  attracted  the  attention  of  Mr.  John  P.  Jewett,  a  lioston  publisher, 
who  promptly  made  overtures  for  its  publication  in  book  form,  lb;  offered  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Stowe  a  half  siiare  in  the  profits,  provicK;d  they  w(juld  share  with  him 
the  expense  of  publication.  This  was  refuseil  1))  the  Professor,  who  saitl  he 
was  altogether  too  poor  to  assume  any  sucli  risk  ;  and  the  aj^reement  iinally 
made  was  that  the  author  should  receive  a  ten  per  cent,  royalty  upon  all  sales. 

SUCCKSS    OK    "UNCLH    Tdm's    CAIilN." 

\\\  the  meantime  the  fears  of  the  author  as  to  whether  or  not  her  book 
would  be  read  were  quickly  dispelled.  Three  thousand  copies  were  sold  the 
very  first  day,  a  second  edition  was  issued  the  followinj^r  week,  a  third  a  few 
days  later ;  and  within  a  year  one  hundred  and  twenty  editions,  or  over  three 
hundred  thousand  copies,  of  the  book  had  been  issued  and  sold  in  this  country. 
Almost  in  a  day  the  poor  professor's  wife  had  become  the  most  talked-of  woman 
in  the  world  ;  her  inlluence  for  q^ood  was  spreading  to  its  remotest  corners,  and 
henceforth  she  was  to  be  a  public  character,  whose  every  movement  would  be 
watched  with  interest,  and  whose  every  word  would  be  quoted.  The  long, 
weary  struggle  with  poverty  was  to  be  hers  no  longer  ;  for,  in  seeking  to  aid 
the  oppressed,  she  had  also  so  aided  herself  that  within  four  months  from  the 
time  her  book  was  published  it  had  yielded  her  j>  10,000  in  royalties. 

The  poet  Whittier  wrote  at  this  time  to  William  Lloyd  Garrison  : — 

"  What  a  glorious  work  Harriet  Beeciier  Stowe  lias  wrought.  Thanks  for  tiie  FuLcitive  Slave 
Law  !  Better  would  it  be  for  slavery  if  thai  law  had  never  been  enacted  ;  for  it  gave  occasion  for 
'Uncle  Tom's  Cabin."' 

Garrison  wrote  to  Mrs.  Stowe  : — 

"  I  estimate  the  value  of  anti-slavery  writing  by  the  abuse  it  brings.  Now  all  the  defenders 
of  slavery  have  let  me  alone  and  are  abusing  _\ou." 

It  is  true  that  with  congratulatory  and  commendatory  letters  came  hosts  of 
others,  threatening  and  insulting,  from  the  Haleys  and  the  Legrees  of  the 
country.  Of  them  Mrs.  .Stow^e  said  :  "  They  are  so  curiously  compounded  of 
blasphemy,  cruelty,  and  obscenity  that  their  like  could  only  be  expressed  by 
John  Bunyan's  account  of  the  speech  of  ApoUyon  :   '  He  spake  as  a  dragon.'  " 

The  feeling  toward  the  book  in  the  .South  is  well  described  in  a  letter 
written  by  Mrs.  Stowe  to  the  Earl  of  Shaftesbury  : — 

"  There  is  nothing  that  Southern  political  leaders  and  capitalists  so  dread  as  anti-slavery  feel- 
ing among  themselves.  All  the  force  of  lynch  law  is  employed  to  smother  discussion  and  blind 
conscience  on  this  question.  The  question  is  not  allowed  to  be  discussed,  and  he  who  sells  a  book 
o^  publishes  a  tract  makes  himself  liable  to  fine  and  imprisonment. 


6^4 


HARK/ET  BEI'XHER  STOWE. 


"  My  l)()t)k  is,  tlicrcfore,  as  mucli  under  an  intcnlict  in  sonic  ])arts  of  the  South  as  the  Hible  is 
in  Italy.  It  is  not  allowed  in  the  bookstores,  and  the  greater  part  of  the  people  hear  of  it  and  me 
only  through  grossly  caricatured  representations  in  the  jjapers,  with  garl)lcd  extracts  from  the  book. 

"  A  cousin  residing  in  (leorgia  ihis  winter  says  that  the  prejudice  against  my  name  is  so  strong 
that  she  dares  not  have  it  appear  on  the  outside  of  her  letters,  and  that  very  amiable  and  excellent 
people  have  asked  her  if  such  as  I  could  be  received  into  reputable  society  at  the  North." 

The  popularity  of  "  UncU;  Tom's  Cabin  "  abroad  was  as  remarkable  as  its 
success  at  home.  A  statement  made  by  Clarke  ii  Company,  who  published  the 
first  English  edition,  is  as  follows  :- 

"  An  early  cojiy  was  sent  from  America  in  April  to  Mr.  Rogue,  the  publisher,  and  was  offered 
by  him  to  Mr.  Gilpin,  late  of  Bishopsgate  street.     Iking  declined  by  Mr.  Clilpin,  Mr.  Hogue  otfered 


A   NKW    ENnl.ANl)   COTTON    MILL   OF   MRS.    STOWE'S   TIME. 


it  to  Mr.  Henry  Vizetelly,  and  by  the  latter  gentleman  it  was  eventually  purchased  for  us.  Before 
printing  it,  however,  as  there  was  one  night  allowed  for  decision,  one  volume  was  taken  home  to  be 
read  by  Mr.  Vizetelly,  and  the  other  by  Mr.  Salisbury,  the  printer,  of  Bouverie  street.  The  report  of 
the  latter  gentleman  the  following  morning,  to  quote  his  own  words,  was :  '  I  sat  up  till  four  in  the 
morning  reading- the  book,  and  the  interest  I  felt  in  it  was  expressed  one  moment  by  laughter  and 
another  by  tears.  Thinking  it  might  be  weakness  and  not  the  power  of  the  author  that  affected  me, 
I  resolved  to  try  the  effect  on  my  wife  fa  rather  strong-minded  woman).  I  accordingly  woke  her  and 
read  a  few  chapters  to  her.  Finding  that  her  interest  in  the  story  kept  her  awake,  and  that  she,  too, 
laughed  and  cried,  I  settled  in  my  mind  that  it  was  a  book  that  ought  to,  and  might  with  safety,  be 
printed.' 

"  Mr.  Vizetelly's  opinion  coincided  with  that  of  Mr.  Salisbury,  and  to  the  latter  gentleman 


HER  NVMEROUS  BOOKS.  695 

it  was  confided,  to  be  brought  out  immediately.  I'lic  wick  following  the  book  was  produced,  and 
one  edition  of  7000  coi)ics  worked  off.  It  made  no  stir  until  the  middle  of  June,  although  we 
advertised  it  very  extensively.  From  June  it  began  to  make  its  way,  and  it  sold  at  the  rate  of  1000 
per  week  during  July.  In  August  the  deuuiml  becaiue  very  great,  and  went  on  increasing  to  the 
20th,  by  which  time  it  was  jjerfectly  overwhelming.  We  have  now  about  four  hundred  jieople 
emjiloyed  in  getting  out  the  Ixxik,  and  seventeen  printing  machines,  besides  hand  presses.  Already 
about  150,000  copies  of  the  book  are  in  the  hands  of  the  people,  and  still  the  returns  of  the  sales 
show  00  decline." 

• 

In  1S52  Professor  .Stowc  received  a  call  to  the  professorshi[)  of  .Sacred 
Literature  in  Andover  Theoloi^ical  Seminary,  and  the  family  soon  removed  to 
their  Massachusetts  home.  They  were  now  relieved  from  financial  pressure  ; 
but  Mrs.  Stowe's  health  was  still  delicate;  and  in  1853  she  went  with  her  hus- 
band and  brother  to  England,  where  she  received,  much  to  her  surprise,  a  uni- 
versal welcome.  She  made  many  friends  among  the  most  distinguished  people 
in  Great  Britain,  and  on  the  continent  as  well.  On  her  return  she  wrote  the 
"Key  to  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin,"  and  began  "  Dred,  a  Tale  of  the  Dismal  Swamp." 
In  fact,  her  literary  career  was  just  begmning.  With  "  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin  "  her 
powers  seemed  only  to  be  fairly  awakened.  One  work  after  another  came  in 
quick  succession.  For  nearly  thirty  years  after  the  publication  of  "  Uncle 
Tom,"  her  pen  was  never  idle.  In  1854  she  published  "Sunny  Memories  of 
Foreign  Lands,"  and  then,  in  rapid  succession,  "The  Minister's  Wooing,"  "The 
Pearl  of  Orr's  Island,"  "Agnes  of  Sorrento,"  "House  and  Home  Papers," 
"  Little  Foxes,"  and  "  Oldtown  I-'"olks."  These,  however,  are  but  a  small  i)art  of 
her  works.  Besides  more  ♦^han  thirty  books,  she  has  written  magazine  articles, 
short  stories,  and  sketches  almost  without  number.  She  has  entertained, 
instructed,  and  inspired  a  generation  born  long  after  the  last  slave  was  made 
free,  and  to  whom  the  great  question  which  once  convulsed  our  country  is  only 
a  name.  But  her  first  great  work  has  never  been  surpassed,  and  it  will  never 
be  forgotten.  The  evil  system  which  produced  the  story  has  long  since  passed 
away  ;  but  "  Uncle  Tom  "  still  lives  in  immortal  youth.  Our  hearts  still  tremble 
for  Eliza  and  her  child ;  they  exult  over  George  Harris's  defense  ;  they  burn  at 
the  words  of  St.  Clare,  and  they  sink  within  us  at  Uncle  Tom's  death.  Who  can 
read  unmoved  the  story  of  Cassy's  life,  or  of  poor  Topsy  hiding  away  in  her 
bosom  the  keepsake  of  her  lost  Eva  ?  And  what  man  but  can  understand  the 
feelings  of  George  Shelby,  when,  kneeling  by  the  new-made  grave  of  Uncle 
Torn,  he  says,  "  Witness,  eternal  God,  that  from  this  hour  I  will  do  what  one 
man  can  to  drive  this  curse  of  slavery  from  my  land  !  " 

After  the  war  which  accomplished  the  abolition  of  slavery,  Mrs.  Stowe  lived 
in  Hartford,  Connecticut,  in  summer,  and  spent  the  winters  in  Florida,  where 
she  bought  a  luxurious  home.  Her  pen  was  hardly  ever  idle  ;  and  the  popu- 
larity of  her  works  seemed  to  steadily  increase. 

The  most  noteworthy  event  of  Mrs.  Stowe's  later  years  was  the  celebra- 


6i/)  IIARRHU  imiiCUER  STOWE. 

tion  of  her  scvdiuicth  l)irth(lay,  on  Juik;  14,  1SS2.  1  Icr  [)ul)lish('rs.  Houghton, 
Mitllin  cS:  C(j..  arraiij^cd  a  rcc(.;iJiion  lor  lu;r  in  the  form  of  a  ^:arcl(Mi  party  at 
th(j  "Old  I'llms."  till'  home  of  cx-Ciovcrnor  Clallin  of  Massachusetts,  in  one  of 
H(jston's  most  beautiful  suburljs.  Tiie  assembly  j:,uithered  to  do  honor  to  Mrs. 
Stowe  that  lovely  June  afternoon  comprised  two  hundred  of  tht;  most  distin- 
v,aiishetl  and  best  known  amon^-  liie  literary  nu'ii  and  women  of  the  day. 

As  the  quests  arris eil  they  were  presented  to  Mrs.  .Stowe  by  ^!r.  H.  O. 
I  Iou_L,diton,  and  then  they  (gathered  in  u^roups  in  the  ])arlors,  on  tlu;  verandas, 
on  the  lawn,  and  in  the  refreshment  room.  At  tive-  o'clock  they  assembU^d  in 
the  large  tent  on  the  lawn,  when  Mr.  I  louL,diton,  as  host,  adtlressed  to  his  guest 
and  her  friends  a  few  words  of  congratulation  ami  welcome. 

Poems  written  for  the  occasion  by  John  (i.  Whittier,  Dr.  O.  \V.  Holmes, 
Mrs.  A.  I).  T.  Whitney,  .Miss  Idizabeth  Stuart  Pheli)S.  Mr.  J.  T.  Trowbridge, 
Mrs.  Allen  (Mrs.  Stowe's  daughter),  Mrs.  Annie  I'ields,  and  Miss  Charlotte  \\ 
l^ates  were  also  read,  anil  speeches  wtM'e  made  by  Judge  Albion  \V.  Tourgee 
and  others  prominent  in  the  literary  world. 

Letters  from  many  noted  people  who  wen;  prevented  from  being  present 
were  read  or  placed  in  Mrs.  .Stowe's  hands.  The  e.xercises  were  closed  by  a 
few  words  from  Mrs.  .Stowe  herself.  As  she  came  to  the  front  of  the  platform 
the  whole  company  rose,  and  remained  standing  until  she  had  finished.  Her 
address  was  brief  and  simjile, — a  few  words  of  thanksgiving  for  the  great  work 
wrought  by  God's  hand  in  the  abolition  of  slavery,  and  of  loving  trust  that  "  all 
things  work  together  for  good."  "  If  any  of  you  have  doubt,  or  sorrow,  or  pain, 
if  you  doubt  about  this  world,  just  remember  what  Ciod  has  done  ;  just  remem- 
ber that  this  great  sorrow  of  slavery  has  gone,  gone  by  forever.  .  .  .  Let  us 
never  doubt.     Everything  that  ought  to  happen  is  going  to  happen." 

The  last  stanza  of  Whittier's  beautiful  poem  may  fittingly  close  this  brief 

sketch : — 

"  .\h,  dearer  than  the  jiraise  that  stirs 
The  air  to-day,  our  love  is  hers  ! 
She  needs  no  guaranty  of  fame 
Whose  own  is  linked  with  I'Yeedom's  name. 
Long  ages  after  ours  shall  keep 
Her  memory  living  while  we  sleep ; 
The  waves  that  wash  our  gray  coast  lines, 
The  winds  that  rock  the  Southern  pines, 
Shall  sing  of  her ;  the  unending  years 
Shall  tell  her  tale  in  unl)orn  ears. 
And  when,  with  sins  and  follies  past, 
Are  numbered  color-hate  and  caste, 
White,  black,  and  red  shall  own  as  one 
The  noblest  work  by  woman  done." 


POLITICAL   GIANTS  OF   THE   PRESENT   DAY. 


IIV    KDWARI)   S.    KI.I.IS,  A.M., 
Aiilhot  0/    'Miniil.iiil  lltsl,;y  of  ll,,-  I  nilrU  M.itfs." 


BENJAMIN    HARRISON. 

SOLDIbR,  OKAiOR  AND  STATES.MAN. 

\Viii:\  General  William 
Henry  1  larrison,  the  hero 
of  TippecancM;  and  of  more 
than  one  important  battle  of 
the  war  of  1.S12,  succumbed 
to  the  torments  which  beset 
every  President  of  thel'nited 
States,  and  suddenly  dieil  one 
month  after  his  inan_L(u ration, 
he  left  a  grandson  named 
Benjamin,  not  cjuite  eight 
years  old,  who  was  the  third 
son  of  John  Scott  I  larrison, 
and  was  born  at  North  Bend, 
Ohio,  August  20,  1833.  Mis 
father  was  the  owner  of  a 
large  farm,  where  the  son 
toiled  while  a  boy,  and  laid 
the  foundation  of  the  rugged 
health  and  strength  which 
stood  him  so  well  in  after 
years. 

The  first  school  which 
Benjamin  Harrison  attended 
was   kept  in  a  log  building, 

where,  so  far  as  is  known,  he  was  neither  a  dull  nor  an  unusually  bright  pupil. 
It  may  have  been  too  early  in  life  for  him  to  display  the  ability  which  afterward 

697 


BE.NJAMIN    IIAKRISON. 


698  BENJAMIN  HARRISON. 

carried  him  to  the  highest  office  in  the  <,nft  of  his  countrymen.  He  was  for- 
tunate in  having-  a  sensible  parent,  who,  knowing  the  vakie  of  education,  sent 
him  at  the  age  of  fifteen  to  Farmers'  (now  Hehnont)  College,  near  Cincinnati. 
He  remained  two  years  and  then  became  1  student  at  Miami  University,  Oxford, 
where  he  attracted  attention  by  his  skill  as  a  debater  and  orator. 

V.  hile  a  law  student,  he  made  the  acquaintance  of  IMiss  Caroline  L.  Scott, 
a  most  estimable  young  woman,  and  daughter  of  the  president  of  the  University. 
The  two  formed  a  strong,  mutual  attachment,  and  were  married  in  1S53,  before 
Harrison  had  attained  his  majority.  He  was  graduated  in  1852,  fourth  in  his 
class. 

He  entered  the  law  office  of  Storer  &  Gwynne,  and  shortly  after  was 
admitted  to  the  bar.  Moving  to  Indianapolis  in  the  following  year,  he  began 
to  practice,  and  has  made  that  city  his  home  ever  since.  Clients  were  not 
numerous  nor  were  fees  large,  but  those  who  employed  young  Harrison  found 
him  conscientious,  devoted  to  their  interests,  and  possessed  of  sterling  integrity 
and  marked  ability.  He  was  prompt  and  kept  his  promises.  A  lawyer  of  that 
kind  is  sure  to  succeed. 

In  1855,  he  entered  into  partnership  with  William  Wallace,  but  six  years 
later  that  gentleman  was  elected  county  clerk  and  Harrison  associated  himself 
with  W.  P.  Fishback.  When  fairly  started  upon  what  was  a  most  promising 
career,  his  patriotism  led  him  into  the  military  service  of  his  country,  where  he 
made  a  fine  record.  He  was  mustered  in  as  Second  Lieutenant,  July  14,  1862, 
as  Captain  eight  days  later,  and  then,  August  7th,  as  Colonel  of  the  70th 
regiment  of  infantry,  the  term  of  enlistment  being  for  three  years.  He 
commanded  his  regiment  until  the  20th  of  August,  1863  ;  the  second  brigade 
of  the  third  division,  reserve  corps,  until  September  20,  1863  ;  his  regiment 
again  to  January  9,  1864,  '^'^'^^  the  first  brigade,  third  division,  20th  army  corps, 
to  September  23,  1864,  on  which  date  he  was  detailed  for  special  duty  in 
Indiana.  Returning  to  duty  in  the  field,  he  was  ordered  in  November,  1 864, 
to  report  in  person  to  the  general  commanding  at  Nashville,  Tenn.  He 
afterward  commanded  the  ist  brigade,  provisional  division,  Army  of  the 
Cumberland,  to  January  16,  1865,  when  upon  his  own  request,  he  was  relieved 
and  directed  to  rejoin  his  command,  which  was  then  at  Savannah,  Georgia, 
under  General  Sherman.  On  his  way  thither,  he  was  stricken  with  what 
threatened  to  be  a  fatal  illness,  but,  rallying,  he  pressed  on.  He  was  not 
yet  fully  recovered  and  was  placed  in  command  of  the  camp  for  convalescents 
and  recruits  at  Hlair's  Landing,  South  Carolina.  He  soon  after  joined  General 
Sherman  at  Raleigh,  where  he  resumed  command  of  the  ist  brigade,  3(1 
division,  20th  army  corps.  April  21,  1865,  and  was  relieved  therefrom  June  8th, 
because  of  the  mustering  out  of  the  troops  composing  it.  On  the  same  day 
he  was  mustered  out  and  honorably  discharged. 


BENJAMIN  HARRISON.  699 

As  we  have  said,  General  Harrison  made  a  most  creditable  record  in  the 
field.  "Little  Ben"  quickly  won  the  reputation  of  being-  a  brave  man  and  a 
skilful  leader.  He  was  very  popular  with  his  own  men  and  with  the  general 
officers.  His  regiment  had  no  superior  in  effectiveness  and  discipline.  He 
was  in  action  at  Russelville,  Kentucky,  and  in  the  numerous  severe  engage- 
ments of  the  Atlanta  campaign,  and  was  present  at  the  surrender  of  General 
Jo  Johnston,  at  Durham's  Station,  North  Carolina,  April  26,  1865.  lighting 
Jo  Hooker  considered  Harrison  without  a  superior  as  a  regimental  and  brigade 
commander,  and  it  was  at  his  request  that,  January  23,  1865,  he  was  breveted 
brigadier  general  of  volunteers,  "for  ability  and  manifest  energy  and  gallantry 
in  command  of  a  brigade." 

He  had  already  won  a  fme  reputation  as  a  lawyer  in  Indianapolis.  He 
was  elected  in  1S60,  reporter  of  the  Supreme  Court,  but  the  office  was  vacated 
by  his  enlistment.  He  was  overwhelmingly  re-elected  in  1864,  while  absent 
in  the  field.  At  the  close  of  the  term,  he  had  a  lucrative  practice,  and  was 
retained  in  nearly  all  the  important  cases  in  his  State.  In  1876,  Godlove  S. 
Orth,  Republican  candidate  for  Governor,  withdrew  during  the  canvass  and 
Harrison's  name  was  substituted  without  consultation  with  him  and  while  he 
was  absent  from  the  State.  He  made  a  plucky  fight,  but  Governor  Hendricks' 
popularity  was  too  great  to  be  overcome. 

In  1880,  Harrison  was  chairman  of  the  Indiana  delegation  in  the  convention 
which  nominated  James  A.  Garfie.d  for  the  presidency.  A  strong  pressure  was 
brought  to  bear  upon  him  to  permit  his  name  to  be  presented  bu;  he  refused. 
His  splendid  work  and  his  great  ability  led  Garfield  to  offer  him  a  place  in  his 
Cabinet,  which  he  declined.  He  was  chosen  United  States  Senator  in  1881  and 
served  for  six  years,  during  which  he  took  rank  among-  the  foremost  debaters 
and  leaders. 

In  the  Chicago  presidential  convention  in  1888,  Harrison  was  nominated 
on  the  eighth  ballot.  During  that  memorable  campaign,  he  made  ninety-four 
speeches,  all  of  which  were  forceful,  effective  and  beyond  criticism  even  by  his 
enemies.  His  most  e.xtraordinary  achievement,  however,  was  after  his  election 
to  the  presidency.  Leaving  Washington,  April  i  5th,  he  made  a  journey  of  10,000 
miles  to  and  from  the  Pacific  coast,  returning  exactly  one  month  later.  On  that 
journey,  he  made  one  hundred  and  forty  addresses,  some  of  them  on  five 
minutes'  notice.  His  audiences  at  times  included  old  Confederates,  colored 
men  and  representatives  of  nearly  every  grade  of  society.  He  was  taken  with- 
out warning  to  institutions  of  learning,  before  the  blind,  the  educated,  and  was 
brought  face  to  face  with  those  who  had  seldom  seen  the  inside  of  institutions 
of  learning.  In  none  of  his  numerous  addresses  did  President  Harrison  repeat 
himself  Each  speech  was  in  exquisite  taste,  ofte  ■  rising  to  heights  of  genuine 
eloquence.     The  most   prominent   newspaper  which  opposed  his  election  de- 


yoo  G ROVER   CLEVELAND. 

clared  that  rresidcnt  Harrison  has  never  had  a  superior,  if  indeed  an  ecjual,  as 
an  effective  off-hand  speaker. 

His  administration  was  worthy  and  dii^^nified,  and  though  his  Cabinet  con- 
tained tile  brilliant  lilaine,  yet  Harrison  was  President  at  all  times  and  his 
inlluence  was  felt  in  every  department.  Above  all  things,  he  was  a  patriot  and 
an  American  under  all  circumstances.  His  renomination  at  Minneapolis  was  to 
be  expected,  but  the  desire  for  a  change  throughout  the  country,  rather  than 
any  distrust  of  the  President  or  disfavor  with  his  work,  led  to  his  defeat  by 
Grover  Cleveland.  A  few  days  before  election  Mrs.  Harrison  died,  after  a  long 
and  painful  illness.  The  lives  of  the  two  had  been  an  ideal  one,  and  no  couple 
ever  were  more  tenderly  attached  to  each  other. 

After  his  retirement  from  the  presidency,  General  Harrison  was  engaged 
by  the  late  Senator  Leland  Stanford  of  California  to  deliver  a  course  of  lectures 
before  the  University  he  had  founded,  upon  consdtutional  law.  Pi  is  practice 
expanded  and  he  easily  took  rank  among  the  ablest  and  most  successful  coun- 
sellors in  the  country.  He  was  prominendy  mentioned  as  a  presidential  candi- 
date, as  President  Cleveland's  term  drew  to  a  close,  the  conviction  being 
general  among  the  Republicans  that,  with  his  past  record  and  his  great  ability, 
he  was  certain  of  success  in  the  struggle  of  1S96.  The  nomination,  however, 
seemed  to  be  a  matter  of  indifference  to  General  Harrison  and  in  February, 
1896,  he  made  public  his  decision  not  to  be  a  candidate.  In  January.  1896,  he 
announced  his  engagement  to  Mrs.  Dimmick,  a  niece  of  the  late  Mrs.  Harrison, 


GROVER    CLEVELAND. 

SUCCESSFUL  LAWYER,  GOVERNOR  AND  PRESIDENT. 

Grcukr  Ci.KVELAM),  tweuty-second  and  twenty-fourth  President  of  the 
United  States,  was  born  in  the  village  of  Caldwell,  Essex  County,  New  Jersey, 
March  18.  1837.  He  was  the  son  of  Richard  I-alley  Cleveland,  a  Presbyterian 
minister,  who  was  graduated  at  Yale  in  1824,  and  five  years  later  married  Annie 
Neal,  daughter  of  a  Baltimore  merchant. 

When  the  son  was  four  y(,'ars  old  his  father  accepted  a  call  to  Fayetteville, 
near  Syracuse,  New  York,  where  the  boy  attended  the  academy,  and  afterward 
served  as  clerk  in  a  country  store.  Some  dme  later  the  family  removed  to 
Clinton,  in  Oneida  County,  and  Grover  was  a  student  at  the  academy  there. 


G ROVER   CLEVELAND. 


701 


At  the  asfe  of  sixteen  he  became  a  clerk  and  assistant  teacher  in  the  New  York 
histitution  for  the  HUnd,  in  New  York  city.  In  the  same  institution  his  elder 
brcjther,  William,  now  a  preacher,  was  also  a  teacher. 

Grover  was  an  excellent  teacher,  but  yieldini^  to  ambition,  he  decided  to 
go  West,  where  he  believed  _t,rreater  o[)i)ortuniti('s  for  mental  growth  and 
success  awaited  him.  He  stopped  at  Black  Rock,  now  a  part  of  the  city  of 
Buffalo,  and  called  upon  his  uncle,  Lewis  F.  Allen,  who  persuaded  him  to  stay 
and  help  in  the  compilation 
of  a  volume  of  the  "American 
Herd  Book."  He  assisted  in 
the  preparation  of  several 
more  volumes,  and  in  Au- 
gust, 1855,  became  a  clerk 
and  copyist  for  the  law  firm 
of  Rogers,  Bowen  &  Rogers, 
in  Buffalo.  He  took  up  the 
study  of  law  and  was  admit- 
ted to  the  bar  in  1859. 
Meanwhile  his  father  died, 
and,  that  he  might  be  able  to 
support  his  mother,  Grover 
remained  three  years  longer 
with  the  firm  at  a  moderate 
salary. 

His  worth  and  ability 
had  attracted  favorable  no- 
tice, and  he  was  appointed 
assistant  district  attorney  of 
Erie  County,  January  i,  1863, 
holding  the  office  for  three 
years.  He  was  defeated  in 
1865,  as  the  Democratic 
candidate  for  district  attor- 
ney, and  became  a  law  partner  of  Isaac  Y.  Vanderpool,  uniting,  in  1S69, 
with  the  firm  of  Lanning  &  Folsom.  By  this  time  he  had  attained  marked 
success,  and  in  1870  was  elected  sheriff  of  Erie  County.  At  the  ond  of 
his  three  years'  term,  he  formed  a  law  partnership  with  his  intimate  friend, 
Lyman  K.  Bass,  who  had  defeated  him  for  the  district  attorneyship,  the  firm 
being  Bass,  Cleveland  &  Bissell.  Ill  health  compelled  the  retirement  of  Mr. 
Bass,  when  the  firm  became  Cleveland  &  Bissell.  It  was  very  successful,  and 
Mr.  Cleveland's  reputation  increased. 
41 


GROVKR    CI. KV  I.I.AM). 


702  GROVER   CLEVELAND. 

One  of  the  marked  features  of  Mr.  Cleveland's  early  public  career  was  his 
great  popularity  when  he  appeared  as  a  candidate  for  the  suffrages  of  the 
people.  Being  nominated  by  the  Democrats  for  mayor  of  Buffalo,  in  the 
autumn  of  iS8i,  he  received  the  largest  majority  (3,530)  ever  given  to  a 
candidate  in  that  city,  although  the  Republican  ticket  was  successful  in  other 
directions.  He  was  supported  not  only  by  his  own  party  but  by  the  inde- 
pendent and  the  "reform"  movements.  Me  fulfilled  the  expectations  of  his 
supporters,  vetoing  extravagant  measures,  and  conducting  his  office  in  so 
prudent  and  economical  a  manner  that  he  saved  fully  $1,000,000  to  Buffalo 
during  the  first  six  months  of  his  term.  His  course  gave  him  such  a  popularity 
that  ill  September,  1882,  he  was  nominated  for  governor  of  the  State.  His 
opponent  was  Charles  J.  Folger,  then  Secretary  of  the  United  States  Treasury. 
Both  men  had  a  record  that  could  not  be  assailed,  and  the  result  was  astound- 
ing. In  a  vote  of  918,894,  Cleveland  received  a  plurality  of  192,854,  giving 
him  a  majority  over  his  opponent,  the  greenback,  prohibition,  and  scattering 
vote,  of  151,742,  the  like  of  which  was  never  before  known  in  the  lunpire  State. 
The  vote  was  so  tremendous  that  it  attracted  national  att(Mition,  and  convinced 
the  I)emocratic  party  that  if  the  new  governor  made  no  blunder  during  his 
administration,  he  would  be  the  most  available  candidate  for  the  presidency. 

Governor  Cleveland  made  no  blunders  that  could  mar  his  prospects.  He 
was  able,  honest,  and  wholly  devoted  to  the  interests  of  the  State.  At  the 
Democratic  national  convention,  held  in  Chicago,  in  July,  1884,  after  several 
days  devoted  to  organization  and  the  presenting  of  the  names  of  the  candidates, 
he  received  the  nomination,  which  he  formally  accepted  by  letter  on  the  1 8th  of 
August. 

bour  candidates  were  before  the  country  in  November,  1884:  Cleveland 
of  New  York,  the  regular  Democratic  nominee  ;  James  G.  Blaine  of  Maine, 
1^  ^publican  ;  Benjamin  F.  Butler  of  Massachusetts,  labor  and  greenback  ;  and 
John  P.  St.  John  of  Kansas,  prohibition.  One  of  those  little  incidents  which 
can  never  be  foreseen,  and  which  often  overturn  the  best  laid  plans,  led  to  the 
defeat  of  Blaine.  At  a  public  reception.  Reverend  Dr.  Burchard,  in  addressing 
Mr.  Blaine,  referred  to  the  Democratic  party  as  that  of  "Rum,  Romanism,  and 
Rebellion."  Mr.  Blaine  did  not  catch  the  expression,  or,  as  he  afterward 
declared,  he  would  have  reproved  it,  but  the  mischief  was  done  so  far  as  he  was 
concerned.  The  charge  against  him  was  used  so  skilfully  that  the  Republican 
candidate  lost  the  vote  of  New  York  by  a  trilling  majority.  This  gave  Cleve- 
land 219  electoral  votes  to  182  for  lilaine,  while  the  popular  vote  stood: 
Cleveland,  4,874,986;  Blaine,  4,851,081. 

President  Cleveland  was  inaugurated  on  the  4th  of  March  following,  and 
called  around  him  an  able  Cabinet.  He  proved  himself  sincere  when  he 
declared  he  would  do  his  utmost  to  carry  out  the  policy  of  civil  service  reform. 


GROVER   CUiVELAXD.  703 

This  course  alienated  some  of  his  supporters  who  beheved  in  the  doctrine  that 
"to  the  victors  belong  the  spoils,"  and  who  considered  all  ante-election  pledges 
to  the  contrary  as  intended  simply  to  catch  votes,  but  President  Cleveland 
adhered  to  the  policy  to  the  end,  earning  the  respect  of  both  parties  by  his 
courage  and  sincerity.  He  used  the  veto  power  with  the  same  severity  as 
when  Mayor  and  Governor.  Me  favored  a  reduction  of  the  tariff,  with  the 
ultimate  establishment  of  freer  trade. 

A  pleasing  incident  of  President  Cleveland's  first  administration  was  his 
marriage,  at  the  White  House,  June  2,  1886,  to  Miss  F"rances  Folsom,  daughter 
of  Oscar  P'olsom,  the  President's  intimate  friend.  The  whole  country  felt 
an  interest  in  the  happy  event,  and  Mrs.  Cleveland,  as  the  leading  laiiy 
of  the  land,  has  commanded  the  admiring  respect  of  the  nation  and  of  all  with 
whom  she  has  come  in  contact.  No  more  graceful  or  accomplished  lady  has 
ever  presided  at  the  White  House. 

In  the  autumn  of  1888,  President  Cleveland  found  himself  pitted  against 
General  Benjamin  Harrison,  with  the  result  that  has  already  been  stated.  Of 
the  popular  vote,  Cleveland  received  5,540,329  and  Harrison  5,439,853,  while 
of  the  electoral  votes,  168  went  to  Cleveland  and  233  to  Harrison. 

In  1892,  the  same  gentlemen  were  the  leading  candidates  and  the  verdict 
M'as  reversed;  Cleveland  received  5,553,142  and  Harrison  5,186,931  on  the 
popular  vote,  while  in  the  electoral  college  276  votes  went  to  Cleveland  and 
145  to  Harrison.  It  was  the  first  time  in  our  history  that  a  President  was  re- 
elected after  being  out  of  office  for  one  term. 

It  is  not  the  province  of  this  sketch  to  give  a  history  of  the  leading  features 
of  President  Cleveland's  administrations.  A  monetary  stringency  and  a  great 
depression  of  business  were  accompanied  by  a  formidable  railway  strike  which 
necessitated  the  calling  out  of  the  United  States  troops  in  several  parts  of  the 
country. 

The  time  when  President  Cleveland  "struck  fire,"  however,  was  in  his 
message  to  Congress,  on  December  17,  1895.  England,  whose  "  earth  hung(?r  " 
is  insatiable,  and  who  has  appropriated  land  in  all  parts  of  the  world,  often 
without  regard  to  right  and  justice,  had  disputed  for  years  with  Venezuela  over 
the  boundary  between  that  country  and  British  Guiana,  obtained  by  pjigland 
from  The  Netherlands  in  18 14.  Learning  that  the  interior  of  \'enezuela  con- 
tains valuable  gold  mines,  England  set  up  a  claim,  which  if  allowed  would  have 
split  Venezuela  almost  in  half  That  weak  country  protested,  but  was  power- 
less. England  refused  to  arbitrate,  but  meant  to  win  by  the  bullying  course 
which  she  is  so  fond  of  adopting  with  feeble  nations. 

The  United  .States  could  not  view  with  indifference  this  dismemberment  of 
a  sister  republic  on  the  American  continent,  for  it  would  be  a  fiagrant  violation 
of  the  Monroe  Doctrine  enunciated  in  1823,  which  declared  in  language  not  to 


704  JOHN  SHERMAN. 

be  mistaken  that  no  part  of  North  or  South  America  from  that  time  forward 
should  be  open  for  colonization  by  any  foreign  power.  Lord  Salisbury,  the 
British  prime  minister,  was  slow  in  replyiny^  to  the  communications  of  our 
government.  When  his  reply  came,  however,  the  President  submitted  it  to 
Congress  with  the  statement  that  the  action  Great  Britain  contemplated  was 
a  violation  of  the  Monroe  Doctrine,  which  it  was  the  duty  of  the  American 
Government  to  resist,  jind  proposed  the  appointment  of  a  commission  by  the 
President  to  determine  die  correct  boundary. 

This  declaration,  as  we  have  stated.  "  struck  fire."  It  was  instantly 
responded  to  by  an  outburst  of  patriotic  fervor  from  one  end  of  the  country  to 
the  other.  The  President  was  endorsed  everywhere.  In  the  North  and  South 
the  veterans  were  as  eager  as  their  sons  to  be  led  against  their  old  hereditary 
enemy.  President  Cleveland  was  declared  to  be  an  American  in  the  highest 
sense  of  the  word,  and  an  exalted  i)atriot  who  had  sounded  the  bugle  to  which 
hundreds  of  thousands  of  loyal  spirits  would  respond. 

Evidently  F^ngland  had  not  reckoned  on  raising  such  a  storm  as  this.  She 
found  herself  confronted  by  a  nation  that  could  not  be  bullied,  a  nation  that 
was  ready  to  fight  at  "the  dropping  of  a  handkerchief"  for  principle.  Great  as 
would  be  the  calainity  of  a  war  between  the  two  nations,  it  would  be  less  a 
calamity  than  dishonor.  The  result  is  known.  England  was  forced  to  make  a 
virtue  of  necessity,  and,  with  the  best  grace  she  could  command,  yielded  to  the 
inevitable,  admitting  that  if  the  Monroe  Doctrine  is  not  international  law,  it  is 
the  abiding  law  of  America  and  must  be  respected  by  all  nations.  And  with 
this  happy  ending,  it  is  to  be  hoped  that  England  having  learned  more  of  us 
than  she  ever  knew,  the  two  great  nations  will  hereafter  remain  friends. 


JOHN  SHERMAN. 

GREAT  FINANCIER  AND  STATESMAN. 

John  Sherman  is  admittedly  one  of  the  ablest  financiers  and  foremost 
statesmen  of  America.  He  was  born  May  lo,  1823,  at  Lancaster,  Ohio,  and 
was  the  eighth  of  eleven  children.  He  was  the  son  of  Charles  Robert  Sherman, 
who  settled  in  Lancaster  and  took  a  leading  part  in  the  measures  for  defence  in 
the  war  of  18 12.  He  was  a  prominent  and  respected  citizen,  who  after  serving 
for  six  years  on  the  bench  of  the  Supreme  Court  of  the  State,  died  suddenly  in 
the  forty-first  year  of  his  age. 


JOHN  SHERMAN. 


;os 


During  his  childhood,  John  Sherman  attended  a  private  school  at  Lancaster, 
but  in  1831,  his  father's  cousin,  a  prosperous  merchant  at  Mount  X'^ernon,  invited 
him  to  his  home  and  offered  to  take  charge  of  his  (;ducation  until  he  was  fitted 
for  Kenyon  College.  The  youth  studied  faithfully  for  four  years,  but,  instead 
of  entering  college,  returned  to  his  mother's  home  and  attended  the  academy 
there.  The  family  were  in  such  straitened  circumstances  that  John  decided  that 
it  was  his  duty  to  give  up  the  plan  of  going  to  college  and  to  support  himself 
instead.  His  elder  brother  ^ 
gave  him  employment  as 
junior  rodman  under  the 
engineer  enraged  in  im- 
proving  the  INIuskingum 
River.  He  improved  his 
leisure  by  study,  but  at  the 
end  of  two  years  lost  his 
place  through  the  sweeping 
political  changes  in  the  State. 
Returning  to  Lancaster  with 
nothing  to  do,  he  fell  for  a 
time  into  bad  habits,  but 
touched  by  the  grief  of  his 
mother  over  his  lapse,  and 
by  a  sense  of  manliness,  he 
quickly  rallied,  and  thence- 
forth was  his  own  "master." 
Ever  since  that  lapse.  Sena- 
tor Sherman  has  been  a  tem- 
perate man,  and  no  one  is 
more  opposed  to  the  drink 
ing  habit  than  he. 

In  the  autumn  of  1839, 
it  was  arranged  that  young 
Sherman  should    study  law 

at  Mansfield  with  his  elder  brother  Charles  and  with  Judge  Parker,  who  had 
married  his  mother's  only  sister.  His  industry  enabled  him  to  support  himself 
while  thus  employed,  and  he  had  been  a  practicing  lawyer  for  more  than  a  year 
before  his  admission  to  the  bar,  which  took  place  on  the  day  that  he  attained  his 
twenty-first  year. 

On  December  31,  184S,  John  Sherman  was  marri(;d  to  Miss  Margaret 
Cecilia  Stewart,  only  child  of  Judge  Stewart.  After  their  wedding  tour,  the 
couple  returned  to  Mansfield  and  the  husband  applied  himself  arduously  to  his 


JOHN    SHERMAN. 


7o6  JOHN  SHERMAN. 

profession.  His  industry,  ability  and  intejj;-rity  brought  him  success,  and  in  1854 
he  was  elected  a  member  of  the  House  of  Representatives.  It  was  in  that  year 
that  the  Missouri  Compromise  was  repealed,  stirring  up  such  a  vehement  revolt 
and  uprising  in  the  North,  that  the  Republican  party  of  to-day  was  born  and 
brought  into  vigorous  existence.  Recently,  when  asked  if  he  remembered  his 
first  speech,  the  distinguished  Senator  said  : — 

"Yes;  I  remember  it  well.  It  was  in  the  midst  of  the  exciting  Kansas- 
Nebraska  times  and  there  had  been  numerous  changes  in  the  personnel  of  the 
House.  There  were  many  young  men  among  the  new  members.  Matt  Day, 
one  of  the  founders  of  the  Cincinnati  Commcrciai  was  a  member.  He  wrote  a 
great  deal,  but  did  not  speak  much  and  was  slightly  deaf.  He  had  scant  regard 
for  the  .sophomoric  eftbrts  of  the  young  Congressman.  On  the  day  that  I  spoke 
I  sat  behind  him.  Day  would  listen  with  his  hand  at  his  ear,  and  the  moment 
one  had  concluded,  would  say  with  a  grunt  of  satisfaction  : 

"  '  Another  dead  cock  in  the  pit.' 

"At  last  I  saw  a  place  where  I  thought  I  could  make  a  good  point.  I 
jumped  to  my  feet,  got  the  Speaker's  eye  and  said  my  say.  When  I  was 
through  and  had  sat  down  I  said  :  '  Here  is  another  dead  cock  in  the  pit.  Mr. 
Day.'  But  Day  replied  :  '  No,  my  young  friend.  I  don't  think  it  is  quite  so  bad 
as  that  with  you  yet,'  and  he  gave  me  to  understand  that  I  had  another  chance 
or  so  for  my  life." 

Mr.  Sherman  spoke  frequendy,  and,  despite  his  youth,  speedily  assumed  a 
leading  position  among  his  associates.  He  was  renominated  in  October,  1856, 
and  triumphandy  elected.  He  was  one  of  the  most  active  and  vigorous  workers 
in  the  presidendal  campaign  of  that  year,  and  insists  to-day  that  the  Republicans 
would  have  been  successful,  had  they  placed  Seward  or  Chase  in  nomination 
instead  of  Fremont. 

The  career  of  John  Sherman  is  another  proof  that  it  is  brains  and  ability 
which  bring  success  in  this  country.  Chosen  again  in  1858,  a  member  of  the 
House,  he  had  already  become  so  prominent  that  he  was  placed  in  nomination 
for  Speaker.  On  thf;  twenty-fifth  ballot  he  came  within  three  votes  of  election, 
but  he  eventually  withdrew  and  Pennington  was  chosen  Speaker  by  a  majority 
of  one.  Sherman  was  appointed  chairman  of  the  Committee  of  Ways  and 
Means,  of  which  he  had  not  previously  been  a  member. 

Mr.  Sherman  had  been  elected  a  fourth  time  when  Abraham  Lincoln  was 
placed  in  nomination  for  the  presidency.  He  had  no  more  ardent  and  power- 
ful supporter  than  Sherman.  In  a  speech  at  Philadelphia,  September  12,  i860. 
he  made  a  number  of  remarkable  prophecies,  every  one  of  which  was  fulfilled 
in  the  momentous  events  that  speedily  followed. 

It  was  February  23,  1861,  that  Lincoln  arrived  in  Washington,  and  Sherman 
met  him  at  Willard's   Hotel  in    the  evening,  for  the  first  time.     "When  intro- 


JOHN  SHERMAX.  707 

duccd  to  him,"  says  Mr.  Sherman,  "lie  took  my  haiuls  in  both  of  his,  drew  himself 
up  to  his  full  heit^^ht,  and  lookini;"  at  mc  steadily,  said  :  '  \'ou  arc  John  Sherman  ! 
Well,  I  am  taller  than  you;  let's  measure.'  Thereupon  we  stootl  hack  to  back, 
and  some  one  present  announced  that  he  was  two  inches  taller  than  I.  This  was 
correct,  for  he  was  si.K  feet  three  and  a  half  inches  tall  when  he  stood  erect." 

.Salmon  P.  Chase,  havinsj;^  accepted  the  place  of  Secretary  of  the  Treasury 
in  Lincoln's  Cabinet,  his  seat  in  the  .Senate  was  taken  by  .Sherman,  who  would 
have  preferred  to  remain  in  the  House,  to  which  he  had  just  been  elected  tor 
the  fourth  dme  and  of  which  he  was  certain  to  be  ch(xsen  .Speaker.  But  having 
entered  the  Senate,  Sherman  steadily  rose  to  his  present  e.xalted  place  in  the 
retj^ard  of  his  countrymen.  In  that  auijust  body,  he  has  towered  for  years,  head 
and  shoulders  above  his  distinguished  associates,  most  of  whom  are  of  national 
reputation. 

It  seems  to  be  the  law  of  this  country  that  the  greatest  men  in  a  political 
party  fail  to  receive  its  highest  rewards.  The  peerless  Henry  Clay  was  nomi- 
nated three  times  for  the  presidency  but  never  attained  it.  Daniel  Webster, 
longing  with  an  unspeakable  longing  for  the  high  office,  died  a  disappointed 
man.  If  any  Republican  of  the  last  (juarter  of  a  century  was  entitled  to  the 
presidential  nomination  at  the  hands  of  that  party.  John  Sherman  is  pre-emi- 
nently the  man.  More  than  once  it  was  almost  within  his  reach,  but  never  quite 
grasped.  It  was  his  humiliadon  to  be  forced  aside,  and  see  the  honor  bestowed 
upon  men  who  were  in  the  ranks  when  he  was  a  leader,  and  whose  ability  was 
no  more  to  be  compared  to  his  than  is  a  bauble  to  a  diamond.  But  his  place  in 
the  honor  and  grateful  recollection  of  the  nation  is  secure. 

Senator  .Sherman  was  foremost  in  financial  and  all  other  measures  for  the 
support  of  the  Government,  throughout  the  agony  of  the  civil  war.  He  personally 
recruited  an  Ohio  brigade.  He  w-as  chairman  of  the  important  Finance  Com- 
mittee for  several  years,  and  in  1877  left  the  .Senate  to  enter  the  Cabinet  of 
President  Hayes.  It  was  during  his  administration  of  the  Treasury  Depart- 
ment that  the  resumption  of  specie  payments  took  place,  January  i,  1.S79. 
With  a  foresight  and  skill  that  cculd  not  be  surpassed.  Secretary  .Sherman  had 
made  such  careful  preparations  for  this  important  step  that  when  it  took  place, 
there  was  not  the  slightest  jar  or  friction.  It  was  in  the  natural  order  of  things, 
effect  following  cause  with  perfect  smoothness. 

.Senator  .Sherman  re-entered  the  Senate  in  18S1,  and  is  there  to-day,  the 
same  industrious,  patriotic,  sagacious,  far-seeing  statesman,  whose  utterances 
are  read  with  profound  interest  in  every  corner  of  the  land,  the  leader  so  emi- 
nent and  able  that  none  dreams  of  disputing  his  supremacy,  equally  r(;s[)ected 
by  political  friends  and  foes,  still  in  the  prime  of  his  magnificent  mental  powers, 
and  so  great  in  the  truest  meaning  of  the  word,  that  when  his  farewell  words 
come  to  be  spoken,  his  loss  w-ill  be  felt  throughout  the  nation. 


THOMAS   BRACKETT   REED. 


THE  GREAT   "SPEAKER"   AND   DEBATER. 


"How  do  you  mix  your 
paints?"  timidly  asked  an 
amateur  of  a  distinguished 
artist. 

"With  brains,  sir!" 
thundered  the  master  of  the 
brush. 

And,  as  we  stated  in 
our  sketch  of  Senator  John 
Sherman,  this  is  preemi- 
nently the  truth  in  American 
affairs.  Social  advantages, 
wealth  and  the  aid  of  friends 
are  not  without  their  effect, 
but  if  the  element  of  ability 
is  lacking,  the  highest  suc- 
cess is  unattainable.  Water 
finds  its  level,  and  the  man 
who  is  thrown  into  the  bust- 
ling arena  of  the  House  of 
Representatives  can  never 
attain  the  place  of  leader, 
unless  nature  has  furnished 
him  with  ability,  or  in  other 
words,  with  brains. 
No  stronger  proof  can  be  given  of  this  statement  than  is  found  in  the 
career  of  Thomas  Brackett  Reed,  who  was  born  in  Portland,  Maine,  October 
1 8,  1S39.  He  attended  the  common  schools  of  the  city,  and  was  graduated  at 
Bowdoin  College  in  i860,  being  amoui.''  the  first  in  his  class  and  taking  the 
highest  honors  possible — the  prize  for  excellence  in  English  composition.  He 
possesses  rare  gifts  in  this  respect,  his  writings  showing  a  clear,  vigorous,  but 
limpid  style,  which  have  brought  him  a  national  reputation,  while  his  speeches 

708 


THOMAS    ISRACKKTT    REKI). 


THOMAS  BRACKETT  REED.  709 

are  eloquent,  sparklinL,^  logical,  and  corrii seating  with  humor,  sarcasm,  and  wit. 
No  man  surpasses  him  in  readiness  of  repartee.  No  more  enjoyable  treat  can 
be  imairined  than  that  of  a  debate  in  the  House,  where  he  is  beset  with  all  .sorts 
of  cjuestions  from  political  opponents.  I  lis  instant  replies  are  inimitable,  and 
the  man  that  can  unhorst;  him  in  debate  has  not  yet  made  his  appearance,  and 
is  not  likely  to  do  so  for  an  indefmite  time  to  come. 

It  was  only  the  other  day  that  a  newspaper  reporter,  while  looking  for 
President  Cleveland,  stepped  to  the  door  of  the  House  restaurant,  and  believ- 
ing he  saw  that  distinguished  personage,  requested  an  attendant  to  bring  him 
to  him  at  the  PresidcMit's  convenience.  When  the  gentleman  came  forward  it 
proved  to  be  .Speaker  Reed. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  the  correspondent;  "I  am  looking  for  the 
President  and  mistook  you  for  him." 

"  For  heaven's  sake  don't  let  the  President  learn  of  this,"  said  the 
Speaker,  with  owl-like  gravity;  "he  is  already  vain  enough  of  his  personal 
appearance." 

After  his  graduation,  Mr.  Reed  taught  in  a  Portland  high  school,  studying 
law  at  the  same  time.  He  went  to  California  in  1S63,  expecting  to  make  his 
home  in  that  State.  He  taught  school  there  and  began  the  practice  of  law,  but 
at  the  end  of  the  year,  for  family  reasons,  returned  to  Maine.  In  April.  1S64, 
he  was  appointed  acting  assistant  paymaster  in  the  Ignited  .States  navy  and 
assigned  to  duty  on  the  gunboat  Sibyl,  which  patrolled  the  Tennessee,  Cum- 
berland and  Mississippi  rivers  until  the  close  of  the  war.  He  was  discharged 
from  the  service  in  August,  1S65,  and  returned  to  Portland,  where  he  was 
admitted  to  the  bar. 

His  advance  was  rapid.  He  was  interested  from  the  first  in  politics,  and 
his  power  and  popularity  were  so  marked,  that,  without  his  knowledge,  he  was 
nominated  by  his  party  in  186S,  for  the  State  House  of  Representatives.  His 
election  followed  as  a  matter  of  course,  and  his  reputation  as  a  brilliant  lawyer 
going  with  him,  he  was  placed  on  the  Judiciary  Committee.  Maine  was  quick 
to  see  that  she  had  secured  the  right  man  and  re-elected  him  in  1869,  promot- 
ing him  to  the  .Senate  in  1S70,  but  he  resigned  the  senatorship  to  assume  the 
duties  of  Attorney  General,  to  which  office  he  had  been  elected.  Mr.  Reed  is 
the  youngest  Attorney  General  that  Maine  ever  had.  He  held  the  office  for 
three  years,  and  added  to  his  fame,  during  which  he  displayed  courage,  con- 
scientiousness and  ability  of  a  high  order. 

He  retired  from  office  in  1873,  and  was  appointed  City  Solicitor  of  Port- 
land, where  his  course  was  marked  by  the  same  devotion  to  duty  that  had  dis- 
tinguished him  when  Attorney  General.  His  name  was  well-known  throughout 
the  .State,  and  it  was  in  the  natural  order  of  events,  that,  in  1876,  he  was 
nominated  for  Congress  in  the  district  composed  of  Cumberland  and  York 


7IO  IlkUfAS  r.RACKETT  REED. 

comities.  Tlu-rc  was  the  bitterest  liL^Iit  conceivable  aj^^ainst  liim,  but  by  his 
iiuloniitable  ener<(y  and  aliihty.  he  swept  everything-  before  him.  It  is  a 
remarkable  fact,  that  tliirin}.,^  this  wiioK;  stirrini,^  campaii^n,  the  sum  total  of  his 
traveling;  (expenses,  hotel  parlors  for  deleq-ates  ami  cost  for  everythinJ,^  W'as 
e.xactly  <;42.oo.  It  may  be  doubted  whether  his  subse{|uent  nominations 
involved  as  much  as  that  insignificant  sum,  for  every  year  since,  without  a 
single  vote  aj^ainst  him  in  any  convention,  he  has  been  enthusiastically  renom- 
inated by  his  constituents.  The  leadintj  Republican  paper  in  Maine  said  :  "  Mr, 
Reed  can  represent  his  district  in  Compress  for  the  rest  of  his  natural  life  if  he 
wants  to  ;  thertt's  no  question  about  that."  His  popularity  made  Mr.  Reed  the 
candidate  Inifore  all  others  of  New  Mn^land  for  the  Presidency  in  1S96,  beside 
which,  as  has  been  shown,  he  had  myriatls  of  supporters  in  all  parts  of  the 
Union. 

Mr.  Reed  took  his  seat  in  Conj^^ress,  (^ctob(T  15,  1877,  the  House  having- 
been  summoned  in  extra  session  to  [)ass  the  army  appropriations,  which  had 
failed  at  the  closincj  session  of  the  Porty-fourth  Con^^ress.  It  was  a  Democratic 
House  and  remained  in  session  until  the  followintj;-  June.  Mr.  Reed  made  his 
first  speech  April  12,  1878,  and  drew  the  attention  of  the  House  by  his  keen, 
convincing-  logic. 

At  the  beginning-  of  his  second  term,  Mr.  Reed's  abilities  were  recognized 
by  his  appointment  as  a  member  of  the  Judiciary  Committee.  His  strength  as  a 
debater  caused  a  number  to  vote  for  him  as  .Speaker  in  the  caucus  of  Decem- 
ber, 1 88 1,  and  he  was  made  chairman  of  the  Judiciary  Committee  of  the  House. 
By  that  time,  he  was  the  recognized  leader  on  the  Republican  side.  He  pre- 
pared and  introduced  a  bill  for  the  proper  distribution  of  the  Geneva  award 
against  Great  Britain  for  the  Alabama  claims,  and  his  accompanying  report  con- 
vinced the  House  that  the  bill  was  right  and  led  to  its  passage. 

His  great  ability  was  recognized  by  political  opponents  as  well  as  friends. 
Without  soliciting  a  single  vote,  he  was  unanimously  chosen  in  caucus,  in  1887, 
as  the  Republican  candidate  for  Speaker.  The  House  being  DcMiiocratic,  how- 
ever, John  G.  Carlisle  received  the  honor  in  the  Forty-eighth  and  Fiftieth  Con- 
gresses. Reed's  turn  came  in  1889,  when  the  Republicans  had  a  bare  majority, 
and,  on  the  second  ballot  placed  him  in  the  Speaker's  chair,  he  receiving  166 
votes  to  154  cast  for  John  G.  Carlisle. 

There  are  few  who  are  not  acquainted  with  Speaker  Reed's  career  as  pre 
siding  officer  of  the  House  of  Representatives.  For  a  time  indeed  he  was  the 
central  figure  in  the  eyes  of  the  .ountry.  There  were  many  contested  election 
cases  and  the  Democrats  used  every  means  to  obstruct  legislation.  It  was  im- 
possible to  have  every  Republican  in  his  seat  at  all  times,  to  meet  the  constitu- 
tional requirement  that  there  should  be  a  majority  present  to  do  business.  The 
Democrats  refused  to  answer  to  their  names  at  roll  call,  and  the  custom  had 


CHARLES  FREDERICK  CRISP.  711 

always  been  for  the  Speaker,  uiulersiuh  circuiiistaiices.  to  declare  110  (iiioniin 
present.  On  January  29,  1890,  when  tht;  1  )i;m<)crats  liad  sat  nuiti;  wliile  their 
names  were  beinL;  "ailed  by  the  clerk,  Speaker  Kied  coolly  coiinK'd  suHicient 
niiinbers  "present  but  not  votini;-,"  to  constitute  a  (piorum. 

It  was  like  a  thunder  clap  from  the  clear  sky.  randemoiiium  was  let 
loose,  and  the  Democrats,  in  a  white  heat  of  ra^je,  protesteil  ami  dcxlared  the 
proceedinj^  unconstitutional  and  revolutionary.  The  .Sj)eaker,  how{;ver,  rt^so- 
lutely  hekl  tcj  his  decision  ami  llu-  business  of  the  session  which  hati  been 
blocked  so  lon:.^''  movi-d  forward,  though  it  cannot  be  said  without  friction.  The 
rule  was  finally  adopted,  bebruary  14,  1890.  It  was  sustained  by  the  .Supreme 
Court,  and  four  years  later,  when  a  Democratic  I  louse  was  cau'^ht  in  precisely 
the  same  dilemma,  it  adopted  precisely  thi;  same  rule.  Mr.  Reed  was  chosen 
speaker  aj^^ain  of  the  iMfty-fourth  ConiL,fress,  in  DeccMnbt;r,   1895. 

Mr.  Reed  lives  in  a  comfortable  hf)me  at  Portland,  with  his  wife,  the 
dauijhter  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Merrill,  formerly  pastor  of  a  Congren^ational  Church 
of  that  city.  He  has  one  daujj^hter,  who,  at  this  writing-  is  not  yet  out  of  her 
teens.  He  is  popular  with  his  neij^hbors,  for  he  is  t^-^enial,  pleasant  and  charit- 
able, manly  and  courai^eous,  and  whenever  he  runs  for  office,  is  certain  to  reccnvc 
a  ^'•reat  many  Democratic  votes,  for  what  American  can  he-lp  feelin<,f  proud  of 
him?  In  the  words  of  Henry  Hall,  he  is  "in  many  respects  the  q-reatest  all 
around  man  in  the  United  States  to-day,  of  stainless  record  and  unimpeachable 
inteq-rity,  bokl  but  safe,  brilliant  but  wise,  masterful  but  heeding  counsel,  and  a 
fighter  without  fear." 


CHARLES   FREDERICK  CRISP. 

SOLDIER,  DEBATER  AND  PARLIAMENTARIAN. 

Charles  Frederick  Crisi",  Democratic  .Speaker  of  the  House,  naturally 
takes  his  place  beside  Reed,  the  famous  Republican  .Speaker.  Though  the 
two  gentlemen  may  differ  in  some  respects,  it  cannot  be  denied  that  they 
resemble  each  other  in  their  stainless  integrity,  their  genial  manner  and  their 
great  ability.  Like  General  Meade,  Charles  F.  Crisp  was  born  on  foreign  soil, 
though  his  parents  were  Americans,  temporarily  absent  from  their  native  land. 
Consequently  their  sons  were  as  much  Americans  as  if  they  first  saw  the  light 
on  Bunker  Hill.  Young  Crisp  was  born  January  29,  1845,  in  Sheffield,  luigland, 
where  his  parents  had  gone  on  a  visit,  but  they  returned  to  America  before  the 


712 


CHARLES  FREDERICK  CRISP. 


son  was  a  year  old.  They  made  their  home  in  Geory^ia,  and  in  that  State  the 
son  has  spent  most  of  his  life,  with  the  exception  of  the  brief  space  mentioned 
at  the  betrinninrr. 

Young-  Crisp  entered  the  Confederr.  _;    service  in  May,  iS6i,  having  just 
turned  his  sixteenth  year.      He  was  a  brave  soldier  and  served  with  honor   for 
more  than  three  years,  as  an  officer  in  the  Tenth  Virginia  Infantry.     On    May 
12,  1864,  the  fortunes  of  war  made   Lieutenant  Crisp  a  prisoner,  and  his  resi- 
dence was  in  Fort  Delaware 
until  June  1865,  when  he  was 
set  free. 

Returning  to  Americus, 
Crisp  took  up  the  study  of 
law  and  soon  acquired  a 
lucrative  practice.  In  1872, 
he  was  appointed  solicitor- 
g'eneral  of  the  southwestern 
judicial  circuit  and  was  re- 
appointed in  1873,  for  a  term 
of  four  years.  The  Congres- 
sional Directory  thus  mod- 
estly sums  up  the  public 
career  of  Mr.  Crisp : — 

"  He  located  in  Ameri- 
cus in  1S73;  in  June,  1877, 
was  appointed  judge  of  the 
superior  court  of  the  same 
circuit;  in  1878  was  electetl 
by  the  general  assembly  to 
the  same  office  ;  in  1880  was 
re-elected  judge  for  a  term 
of  four  years  ;  resigned  that 
office  in  September,  1882,  to 
accept  the  Democratic  nomi- 
nation for  Congress  ;  was  permanent  president  of  the  Democratic  convention 
which  assembled  in  Atlanta  in  April,  1883,  to  nominate  a  candidate  for  governor  ; 
was  elected  to  the  Forty-eighth,  I'orty -ninth,  Mftieth,  Fifty-first,  I-'ifty-second,  and 
I'ifty-third  Congresses,  and  re-elected  to  the  Fifty-fourth  Congress  as  a  Demo- 
crat, receiving  8,503  votes,  against  2,568  votes  for  George  R.  White,  Populist  ; 
was    elected  Speaker  of  the  House   in  the  Fifty-second  and  Fifty-third  Con- 


CIIARI.r.S    I'Kl.ni-.KlrK    CRISP. 


gresses. 


It  will  thus  be  noted  that  Mr.  Crisp  entered  Congress  at  the  age  of  thirty- 


CHARLES  FREDERICK  CRISP.  713 

eig-ht.  He  speedily  took  high  rank  in  that  l^oily,  ami  cVen,  durinq;  his  second 
term  was  called  to  occupy  the  chair  in  committee  of  the  whole.  He  is  one  of 
the  ablest  parliamentary  authorities,  self-possessed  debaters  and  best  informed 
men  in  the  House.  He  was  a  leadinij  participant  in  the  turbulent  scenes  of 
the  Fifty-first  Congress,  when  the  only  member  as  cool  as  he  was  Speaker  Reed. 
His  party  never  did  a  more  appropriate  thing-  than  when,  at  the  first  opportu- 
nity, they  placed  him  in  the  chair  as  .Speaker,  and  it  may  be  truthfully  said  that 
few  if  any  occupants  have  displayed  more  ability  and  judicial  fairness  than  he. 

Great  as  have  been  the  public  honors  placed  upon  Mr.  Crisp,  the  most 
pleasing  picture  of  him  is  in  his  own  home.  He  is  liked  by  every  one  in 
Americus.  When  the  news  reached  that  town  that  he  had  been  chosen  .Speaker, 
a  telegi-am  was  sent  to  him  with  the  announcement  that  his  friends  had 
locked  up  the  chief  of  police  and  all  his  officers  for  twenty-four  hours  and  had 
taken  possession  of  the  place,  that  they  might  have  a  chance  to  give  proper 
e.xpression  to  their  feelings. 

Mr.  Crisp  has  been  blessed  with  one  of  the  best  of  wives,  and  they  have 
had  seven  children,  of  whom  only  four  are  living.  The  eldest  daughter  is 
married,  and  the  oldest  boy  is  clerk  to  his  father.  Unhappily  the  mother, 
shortly  after  her  marriage,  was  afflicted  with  rheumatic  gout,  from  which  she  has 
never  recovered.  Her  affliction  seems  to  have  drawn  her  children  and  husband 
closer  to  her.  and  the  love  borne  by  all  for  one  another  makes  the  home  an 
ideal  one. 

The  house  in  the  evening  is  the  resort  of  the  young  people  of  Americus. 
They  come  together  to  dance  and  sing  and  enjoy  themselves.  Although 
Speaker  Crisp  is  neither  a  singer  nor  dancer,  none  finds  keener  enjoyment  in  the 
fun  than  he.  He  is  very  fond  of  young  people,  and  it  follows  inevitably  that 
they  are  equally  fond  of  him.  He  is  thoroughly  happy,  and  holding  as  he 
does  the  esteem  and  respect  of  all  his  neighbors  and  acquaintances,  and  with 
the  prospect  of  higher  political  honors  awaiting  him,  ex-Speaker  Crisp  has 
no  excuse  for  envying  the  fortunes  of  any  man. 


JOHN    GRIFFIN    CARLISLE. 

TARIFF  REFORMER,  FINANCIER  AND  PARLIAMENTARIAN. 

John  Griffin  Carlisle  was 
born  September  5,  1834,  in 
Campbell  (now  Kenton) 
County,  Kentucky.  His 
father,  Lilbon  H.  Carlisle, 
was  a  farmer  in  a  small  way, 
who  inherited  a  portion  of 
the  Carlisle  farm,  situated  a 
few  miles  from  Covington. 
The  family  originally  came 
from  \^irginia. 

John  Griffin  was  a  stu- 
dious boy  but  considered 
indolent.  He  did  not  take 
kindly  to  manual  labor,  but 
was  fond  of  books.  He 
attended  the  public  schools 
and  received  few  educational 
advantages.  That  he  im- 
proved his  time  is  proved  by 
the  fact  that  while  he  was  in 
his  teens,  he  was  a  successful 
teacher,  but  he  had  made  up 
his  mind  to  become  a  lawyer, 
and  in  1S55,  ^''^  entered  as  a 
iaw  student  the  office  of  John  \V.  Stevenson,  at  Covington.  The  father  of 
Stevenson  was  Speaker  of  the  House  of  Representatives  and  the  son  afterwards 
became  Governor  of  Kentucky  and  United  States  Senator. 

In  1S58,  at  the  age  of  twenty-three.  Carlisle  was  admittetl  to  the  bar.  He 
quickly  demonstrated  that  he  was  the  possessor  of  a  powerful  and  logical  mind, 
and  his  success  was  assured  from  the  first.  In  the  following  year,  he  was  elected 
to  the  Lower  House  of  the  Kentucky  Legislature.     During  the  civil  war,  Mr. 

714 


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JOHN   cuirriN   CAKl.nU.E. 


JOHN  GRIFFIN  CARLISLE.  715 

Carlisle  was  a  Union  man,  thouiih  as  he  states,  not  an  a"trressivc  one.  He 
practiced  his  profession  while  the  fighting  was  going  on. 

In  1866,  he  was  elected  State  Senator  and  resigned  in  1S71,  during  a 
second  term,  to  become  Lieutenant  Governor,  l-'ive  years  later,  he  was  elected 
to  the  National  House  of  Representatives,  and  was  .Speaker  from  18S3  to  1889. 
He  remained  in  the  House  until  1890,  when  he  was  chosen  United  States 
Senator,  to  succeed  .Senator  Beck,  who  had  died.  This  office  he  resigned  at  the 
solicitation  of  President  Cleveland,  whose  Cabinet  he  entered  in  March,  1893,  '^^ 
Secretary  of  the  Treasury. 

Such  in  brief  is  the  puljlic  career  of  this  distinguished  .son  of  Kentucky,  a 
gentleman  who  to-day  is  one  of  the  most  remarkable  men  and  inlluential  pt)li- 
ticians  in  the  Union.  The  appropriateness  of  his  selection  l)y  President  Cleve- 
land was  recognized  in  every  quarter,  for  from  Mr.  Carlisle's  first  appearance  in 
Congress  in  1879,  he  was  accepted  as  authority  on  finance,  and  was  the  most 
successful  leader  that  the  Democrats  have  had  since  the  war.  The  legislation 
of  the  three  Houses  over  which  he  presided  was  unusually  creditable.  In  the 
Fifty-first  Congress,  he  succeeded  in  so  weakening  protectionist  opposition  that 
the  Mills  bill  was  passed,  though  his  party  had  been  unable  to  unite  on  the 
Morrison  bill. 

It  was  Mr.  Carlisle's  report  which  in  1879  resulted  in  the  revision  of  the 
excise  laws  and  an  equitable  system  of  taxation.  In  1881,  he  introduced  an 
amendment  which  limited  the  power  of  the  national  banks  to  surrender  circula- 
tion and  protected  the  Treasury  and  the  business  of  the  country  from  the 
assaults  which  have  been  made  by  banks  whenever  there  was  a  threatened  reduc- 
tion in  the  interest  on  the  public  bonds  held  by  them. 

Mr.  Carlisle  is  si.\  feet  in  height,  with  smooth-shaven  face,  bright  blue  eyes, 
and  his  appearance  suggests  that  of  a  prelate  of  the  Roman  Catholic  church. 
He  is  the  pink  of  courtesy,  and  has  been  seen  to  give  up  his  seat  in  a  street  car 
to  a  colored  woman  with  as  much  grace  as  the  late  General  Jo  Johnston  showed 
upon  similar  occasions.  His  voice  is  pleasant,  and  he  is  an  attentive:  listener, 
with  a  heart  so  kind  that  his  break  down  when  -Speaker  was  caused  by  his  con- 
stant eftbrts  to  help  tht;  members  who  came  to  consult  him  regarding  their  bills. 
If  he  is  lacking  in  one  thing,  it  seems  to  be  the  power  to  refuse  a  favor,  through 
his  dread  of  hurting  the  applicant's  feelings  or  doing  him  an  injustice,  All  such 
persons  reap  the  penalty  of  their  open  heartedness,  and  .Secretary  Carlisle  is  t(3- 
day  a  poor  man,  far  difl'erent  from  many  who  have  held  public  office. 

The  story  is  told  of  him  that  when  a  blubbering  Kentuckian,  as  he  called 
himself  begged  for  enough  money  to  take  himself  and  family  home,  after  they 
had  been  robbed,  the  .Secretary  handeil  him  fifty  dollars.  .\  half  hour  later,  the 
same  man  and  half  a  dozen  drunken  companions  n^le  past  the  Secretary's 
house,  whooping  and  enjoying  themselves  to  their  fullest  bent. 


7i6  JOHN   GRIFFIN   CAKUSLF. 

Some  of  the  Secretary's  habits  arc  not  to  be  commended.  He  takes  no 
exercise  whatever.  If  his  carriage  does  not  call  for  him,  he  boards  the  street- 
car for  his  home.  It  has  been  said  that  the  only  possible  exercise  he  gets  is 
when  the  street  car  is  so  full  that  he  has  to  hang  fast  to  a  strap. 

Hut  the  most  remarkable  characteristic  of  Secretary  Carlisle  remains  to  be 
mentioned.  It  is  his  wonderful  mental  grasp  of  complicated  cpiestions,  a  power 
which  seems  to  be  in  the  nature  of  intuition.  He  will  run  through  a  mass  of 
papers  and  extract  the  kernel,  when  other  lawyers  have  only  begun  their  inves- 
tigation. He  will  sit  toying  with  a  pack  of  cards  and  play  solitaire,  without 
making  an  error  in  the  game  and  dictate  the  most  important  letters.  After  fifty 
such  letters  have  been  written  he  will  listen  to  their  re-reading,  and,  if  a  single 
word  has  been  inadvertently  changed,  he  will  detect  it  as  quick  as  a  tlash.  His 
skill  in  this  respect  is  almost  incredible.  Major  AIcKinley  once  remarked  of 
him  that  he  never  had  a  clouded  thought,  and  the  facetious  Senator  Joe  Black- 
burn said: 

"Carlisle  is  not  entitled  to  half  as  much  credit  as  I  am.  What  I  know  I 
have  had  to  study,  dig,  grub  and  toil  for.  Carlisle  knows  four  times  as  much 
as  I  do.  He  has  all  the  wisdom  of  the  ancients  and  the  moderns  packed  away 
in  his  head,  and  whenever  he  opens  his  mouth  great  things  and  good  things 
naturally  roll  out  of  it.  He  isn't  entitled  to  any  credit  for  them.  He  can't  help 
it.     He  was  born  that  way." 

Secretary  Carlisle  has  long  been  the  confidential  adviser  and  intimate 
friend  of  President  Cleveland.  He  has  a  charming  home  and  is  devoted  to  it. 
He  was  married  January  15,  1S57,  to  Miss  Mary  Jane  Goodson,  belonging  to  a 
prominent  family  of  Kentucky.  His  son  Lilbon  Logan  is  his  private  secretary 
and  is  unmarried.  His  other  son,  William  K.,  is  married  and  has  two  or  three 
small  children  with  him  at  his  home  in  the  West.  Both  sons  are  bright  and 
successful  lawyers.  Mrs.  Carlisle  is  her  husband's  helpmate,  looking  after  his 
health,  not  always  a  slight  matter,  and  giving  her  aid  and  counsel  in  many 
important  matters,  while  the  husband,  with  all  his  wisdom  and  ability,  fully 
appreciates  the  inestimable  service  which  such  a  wife  is  often  able  to  render 
even  in  questions  of  public  affairs  and  of  state  matters. 


LEVI  PARSONS  MORTON. 


RANKER  AND  STATESMAN. 

Levi  Parsons  MuRrox, 
although  to-day  worth  many 
million  dollars,  was  not 
born  with  a  silver  spoon  in 
his  mouth.  Like  many  of 
the  very  wealthy  men  of  our 
country,  he  was  the  son  of 
poor  parents,  and  hewed  his 
way  to  success  by  his  own 
industry,  ability  and  resolu- 
tion not  to  stop  short  until 
that  success  was  attained. 
His  mother  was  the  daughter 
of  a  clergyman,  and  his  father 
was  a  clergyman,  Daniel  O. 
Morton,  of  Shoreham,  Ver- 
mont, where  Levi  Parsons 
was  born  in  1824,  being  the 
fifth  of  six  children.  By  great 
economy  the  preacher  was 
able  to  send  his  two  oldest 
sons  to  school,  but  young 
Levi  gathered  his  first  book 
instruction  at  the  knees  of 
his  father  and  mother.  After- 
ward he  attended  the  common  school  for  awhile,  but  at  an  age  when  many 
other  lads  are  preparing  for  the  academy  or  college,  he  started  out  to  earn  his 
own  livelihood. 

About  the  only  avenue  open  for  youths  of  that  class  is  the  country  store, 
which,  however,  has  been  the  stepping-stone  to  success  tor  more  than  one  great 
man.  Levi  had  barely  reached  his  teens,  when  he  was  employetl  in  selling 
sugar,  tea,  and  all  the  odd  knacks  that  may  be  found  in  a  village  store.    But  he 

42  717 


I.F.Vl    I'ARSiiNS    MOKTiiN'. 


7iS  LEVI  PARSONS  MORTON. 

was  made  of  the  right  stuff,  and  at  the  end  of  a  year  he  was  promoted  to  a 
better  paying'  situation  in  Enfield,  Massachusetts,  from  which  he  drifted  to  Con- 
cord, finally  landing  at  Hanover.  In  the  last  named  place  is  a  well  known  uni- 
versity. Unable  to  attend  the  institution  himself,  young  Morton  found  the  air 
of  learning  congenial,  and  he  was  delighted  in  his  intercourse  with  the  students, 
the  professors,  their  wives  and  families.  Not  neglecting  his  business,  he  im- 
proved himself  mentally  to  the  utmost,  and  looks  back  upon  that  episode  in  his 
life  as  among  his  most  pleasing  remembrances.  While  a  resident  of  Hanover, 
he  cast  his  first  vote  for  General  Zachary  Taylor,  afterward  President  of  the 
United  States. 

In  1849,  when  twenty-five  years  old,  Morton  removed  to  I)Oston  and  made 
a  profitable  arrangement  with  the  leading  dry  goods  house  of  James  Heebe  & 
Co.  At  that  time  there  was  another  young  man  connected  with  the  house  of 
Beebe  &  Co.,  Junius  S.  Morgan,  who  afterward  became  the  head  of  the  great 
banking  firm  in  London. 

Morton  and  Morgan  became  close  friends,  and  in  1852,  Morton  was  taken 
in  as  a  member  of  the  firm  of  Beebe  &  Co.  Here  he  confirmed  his  reputation 
as  a  man  of  unusually  keen  business  instincts,  and  added  much  to  the  success 
of  the  firm.  There  seemed,  however,  to  be  only  one  right  place  for  the  budding- 
merchant  and  millionaire,  and  that  was  the  metropolis  of  the  country.  Accord- 
ingly, in  1854,  he  left  New  England  and  associated  himself  with  Mr.  Grinnell, 
a  New  York  merchant.  'Hie  sign  of  Morton  &  Grinnell,  commission  merchants, 
was  hung  out  on  lower  Broadway,  then  the  centre  of  the  dry  goods  trade  of  the 
city. 

In  1856,  when  thirty-two  years  old,  he  was  married  to  Miss  Lucy  Kimball, 
who  belonged  to  an  old  Long  Island  family.  Ere  long  a  commercial  panic 
swept  over  the  country,  and  all  his  hard  earned  savings  were  engulfed,  but  he 
never  lost  heart  and  kept  his  head  so  well  above  water,  that  in  1863  he  was 
able  to  establish  the  banking  firm  of  L.  P.  Morton  &  Co.  It  was  the  business 
to  which  he  had  long  aspired,  for  which  he  was  eminently  fitted  and  in  which  he 
attained  extraordinary  success.  His  old  friend,  Junius  .S.  Morgan,  became  a 
partner,  and  in  1869,  Mr.  George  Bliss,  who  had  always  been  very  successful  in 
the  dry  goods  business,  joined  the  firm  with  a  large  amount  of  capital,  the  style 
becoming  Morton,  P)liss  d^  Co.  Mr.  Morgan  soon  retired,  and,  going  to  London, 
formed  other  connections.  .Sir  John  Rose,  who  had  been  Minister  of  Finance 
in  Canada,  shortly  after  took  charge  of  the  New  York  firm's  business  in 
London,  which  was  rapidly  growing,  and  Morton,  Rose  &  Co.  soon  became  a 
power  in  that  city. 

From  1873  to  1884,  Morton,  Bliss  &  Co.  were  the  fiscal  agents  of  die 
United  States  government,  and  were  active  in  the  syndicate  that  negotiated 
United  States  bonds  for  the  refunding  of  the  National  debt  and  the  restoration 


LEVI  PARSONS  MORTOX.  719 

of  specie  payments.  A  memorable  transaction  of  the  firm  was  the  payment  by 
check  of  ^15,500,000  on  account  of  the  Geneva  award  for  the  ^Uabama  claims, 
and  another  of  $5,500,000  on  account  of  the  fishery  award. 

Mr.  Morton  was  prominent  in  society,  and,  in  kSjo,  he  bouj^ht  "  Fairlawn," 
a  magnificent  estate  on  Bellevue  Avenue,  Newport,  where  he  gave  many  notable 
entertainments.  In  the  following  summer,  however,  he  was  aftlicted  by  the 
death  of  his  wife  there.  The  blow  was  a  severe  one,  and  only  after  the  per- 
sistent urgency  of  his  friends  he  roused  himself  and  entered  more  vigorously 
than  ever  into  business.  In  1873,  he  was  married  to  Miss  Annie  Street, 
daughter  of  William  I.  Street,  belonging  to  one  of  the  oldest  families  in  New 
York.  The  country  place  of  the  Streets  was  at  Poughkeepsie,  and,  in  defi-r- 
ence  to  the  wishes  of  Mrs.  Morton,  her  husband  purchased  "  I'lllerslie,"  a  few 
miles  above,  which  is  one  of  the  most  palatial  residences  in  this  country. 

Mr.  Morton  is  the  type  of  the  successful  American  merchants  and  bankers, 
whose  peculiar  training  and  mental  equipment  sometimes  lead  them  to  turn 
their  attention  to  politics,  Mr.  Morton  listened  to  the  persuasion  of  friends, 
and,  in  1878,  accepted  the  Republican  nomination  for  Congress  from  the 
Eleventh  district  in  New  York  city.  It  was  a  Democratic  stronghold,  but  Mr. 
Morton  was  successful  and  was  re-elected  at  the  conclusion  of  his  first  term. 
His  strength  was  already  so  apparent  that  he  was  offered  the  nomination  for  the 
Vice  Presidency  on  the  ticket  with  Garfield.  He  declined  and  the  honor  went 
to  Chester  y\lan  Arthur,  who,  as  is  known,  succeeded  to  the  Presidency  upon  the 
assassination  of  the  President.  Garfield  offered  Mr.  Morton  the  choice  between 
Secretary  of  the  Navy  and  the  mission  to  France.  The  latter  suited  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Morton  and  was  accepted.  The  family  removed  to  Paris  in  1881,  and  re- 
mained until  1885,  when  Mr.  Morton  resigned  to  make  way  for  Robert  McLane. 
He  made  a  most  admirable  record  while  in  France,  and  this  country  was  ne\er 
more  capably  represented  in  Paris  than  by  him  and  his  family. 

In  18S9,  Mr.  Morton  became  V^ice  President  of  the  United  States  with 
Benjamin  Harrison  as  his  chief.  He  won  the  same  golden  opinions  while  pre- 
siding officer  of  the  United  States  Senate,  and  political  opponents  regretted 
scarcely  less  than  political  friends,  his  retirement  at  the  end  of  four  years. 

Mr.  Morton  had  become  too  "  available  "  a  candidate  for  his  party  to  allow 
him  to  withdraw  from  politics,  and,  though  he  had  reached  the  age  of  three- 
score and  ten,  when  he  felt  himself  entitled  to  rest,  he  accepted  the  nomination 
for  governor  against  Senator  David  B.  Hill  and  defeated  him  by  a  majority  of 
156,108,  at  the  same  election  in  which  Cleveland  carried  the  State  against  Har- 
rison. Governor  Morton's  term  expires  on  the  last  day  of  1896.  At  the  be- 
ginning of  the  year,  the  Republican  leaders  of  the  .State  agreed  to  unite  their 
eftb.ts  in  pressing  him  for  the  Republican  nomination  for  the  Presidency. 

His  worth  and  ability  were  proven  long  ago.     He   holds  that  the  ofifice  is 


720  WILLIAM  B.  ALLISON. 

one  too  di<Tnified  for  any  person  to  seek  or  to  decline.  When  the  wife  of  Presi- 
dent Harrison  died,  Mrs.  Morton  became  the  leader  of  society  in  Washington, 
and  there  was  never  a  more  brilliant  and  popular  leader  than  she.  It  was  her 
innate  graciousness,  her  infinite  tact,  and  her  kindness  of  heart,  more  than  her 
beauty  and  brilliant  accomplishments  which  won  her  the  admiration  and  respect 
of  all,  as  the  foremost  lady  of  the  land.  The  parents  have  been  blessed  with 
five  bright  and  beautiful  daughters,  carefully  trained  and  educated,  fit  com- 
panions all,  for  their  noble  mother  and  worthy  father. 


WILLIAM  B.  ALLISON. 

CONGRESSMAN   AND  FINANCIER. 

Wii.LTAM  B.  Am.isox,  recently  re-elected  United  States  Senator  from  Iowa, 
is  a  native  of  Ohio,  the  commonwealth  which  of  late  years  has  furnished  so 
many  statesmen  to  the  Union.  Some  time  ago,  in  a  chat  with  the  late  General 
Sherman,  he  remarked  to  the  writer  :  "  There's  something  singular  about  Ohio  ; 
she  has  always  a  number  of  leading  men  at  the  front.  Mere  at  West  Point,  she 
has  the  larsrest  number  of  members  in  the  frraduatint:  class,  and  it  has  been  so 
for  years.  The  infusion  of  New  England  blood  into  that  State  seems  to  have 
produced  the  best  sort  of  stock.  General  Grant  was  a  native  of  the  State, 
and,"  added  the  grim  soldier  with  a  smile,  "if  I  wer'n't  such  a  modest  man,  I 
micfht  add  that  I  also  was  born  there." 

Mr.  Allison  was  born  in  1829,  and  was  graduated  from  the  Western  Re- 
serve College.  His  first  entrance  into  public  politics,  as  he  states,  was  in  i860, 
when  he  was  appointed  one  of  the  tally  secretaries  at  che  convention  which 
nominated  Abraham  Lincoln  for  the  Presidency.  He  was  then  practicing  law  in 
the  little  town  of  Ashland,  near  the  centre  of  the  State,  some  fifteen  miles  from 
where  that  other  famous  son  of  Ohio,  John  Sherman,  was  engaged  in  the  sam(.' 
profession.  Allison  had  removed  to  Iowa  in  1857,  where  he  found  himself 
among  many  people  from  Ohio.  It  was  as  a  delegate  from  Iowa  that  he 
attended  the  memorable  convention  which  placed  one  of  the  greatest  Americans 
that  ever  lived  in  nomination  for  the  Presidency. 

"I  sat  right  in  front  of  George  Ashmun,  of  Massachusetts,"  said  Senator 
Allison.  "  He  was  president  of  the  convention,  and  I  believe  that  I  gave  him  the 
first  news  of  Lincoln's  nomination.     I  kept  footing  up  the  figures  as  they  came 


WILLIAM  B.  ALLISON. 


721 


in,  and  some  time  before  the  members  of  the  convention  were  aware  of  the 
fact,  I  saw  tliat  Lincoln  would  be  successful,  and  I  turned  about  and  told  Mr. 
Ashmun  of  the  fact.  A  few  minutes  later  the  convention  realized  it,  and  then 
ensued  one  of  the  most  wonderful  scenes  in  our  history.  The  convention  was 
held  in  the  old  wif.'-wam  in  Chicai^o,  and  there  were  about  ten  thousand  |)eoplc 
^jresent.  When  the  vote  was  announced  a  scream  went  up  from  tiiousands  of 
throats  and  fully  one  thousand  hats  were  thrown  into  the  air.  It  rained  hats  for 
several  minutes  after  the  an- 
nouncement, and  I  can  still 
see  the  hats  risiui^  and  fall- 
ing. The  people  lost  control 
of  themselves,  and  1  have 
often  wondered  what  became 
of  those  hats,  for  there  was 
not  much  possibility  of  re- 
covering- your  hat  in  a  mob 
like  that." 

Although  Mr.  Allison 
was  deeply  interested  in  poli- 
tics from  the  first,  and  always 
inclined  to  the  principles  of 
the  Republican  party,  he  felt 
no  special  ambition  to  be- 
come a  politician.  Never- 
theless, his  neighbors  appre- 
ciated his  ability,  and  he  was 
nominated  for  Congress  in 
1862.  Samuel  J.  Kirkwood 
was  then  governor  of  Iowa 
and  Allison  was  on  his  staff. 
Being  directed  to  raise 
troops  for  the  armies  in  the 
field,     he     ortjanized     three 

regiments  in  North  Iowa  in  1861,  but  was  attacked  by  a  serious  illness  which 
laid  him  up  for  a  year.  As  soon  as  he  recovered,  he  set  to  work  again  and 
raised  three  more  regiments.  He  was  then  nominated  for  Congress  by  the 
conservative  element  of  the  Republican  party.  His  opponent  was  a  Demo- 
cratic editor  of  so  pronounced  secession  proclivities  that  he  was  in  jail  by 
orders  of  the  aggressive  Secretary  Stanton.  Thus  the  issue  was  a  straight 
one  between  the  friends  and  enemies  of  the  Union. 

Had  all  of  Iowa's  citizens  been  at  home,  Mr.  Allison  would  not  have  felt 


WIl.TIAM    n.    ALLISON. 


722  WILLIAM  11   ALJJSON. 

the  slightest  mi.s_f,Hvin^  as  to  the  result,  but  tlu:  majority  of  the  Iowa  soldiers  in 
the  fickl  were  Republicans.  In  this  dilemma,  Allison  persuaded  (iovernor 
Kirkwood  to  call  an  extra  session  of  the  Leujislature,  which  passed  a  law  allow 
inj^r  the  soldiers  at  the  front  to  vott;.  Three  commissioners  were  sent  thither, 
the  result  beinj^^  that  Allison  was  triumjjhantly  (;K;cted.  The  same  system  of 
soldier  votin_L,r  was  afterward  adoptc;d  by  other  Stales  in  the  North.  Mr.  Allison 
remained  in  Conj^^ress  until  1871,  and  two  years  later  was  elected  to  the  Senate, 
where  \\v.  lias  n-mained  ever  since,  beiuL;-  re-elected,  as  already  stated,  in  1896. 

I'Vom  his  first  entrance  into  politics.  Senator  Allison  has  been  profoundly 
interested  in  financial  matters,  aiul  there  is  no  hioher  authority  on  that  question 
than  he.  He  was  early  appointed  a  member  of  the  Appropriation  Committee. 
1  lis  seat  was  near  that  of  Congressman  (iarfield  and  Ik;  became  th(;  intimate  ami 
trusted  friend  of  him  and  of  Blaine.  Despite  his  friendship  for  Mr.  Blaine,  he 
was  also  the  valued  associate  of  the  most  bitter  opponents  of  the  Maine  states- 
man.    This  was  a  trilnite  indeed  to  the  worth  and  ability  of  Allison. 

IVesident  Garfield  was  so  impressed  by  Allison's  attainments  and  complete 
mastery  of  fmancial  (piestions,  that,  in  the  face  of  the  stron<j;^est  pressure  from 
other  cjuarters,  he  urged  him  to  accept  the  portfolio  of  the  Treasury.  Allison 
would  have  done  so,  for  the  post  would  have  bc:en  a  conj^enial  one  to  him,  had 
it  not  been  for  the  delicate  state  of  his  wife's  health.  She  was  a  brilliant  and 
accomplished  woman,  Init  was  an  invalid  whose  existence  depended  upon  her  liv- 
int^  a  quiet,  restful  life.  Because  of  this,  the  affectionate  husband  declined  the 
offer.  The  nervous  malady  of  his  wife  became  intensified,  and  some  time  later, 
when  she  had  become  a  victim  to  melancholia,  sad  to  say,  she  took  her  own  life. 

Mr.  Allison  enjoys  splendid  health,  and  is  in  the  prime  of  his  mental  powers. 
His  eye  is  bright,  his  comi)lexiori  ruddy,  and  the  iron-gray  hair  abundant.  He 
i:";  a  handsome  man,  genial  and  fond  of  a  good  story,  and  he  can  tell  one  and 
join  in  the  ringing  laughter  which  greets  a  witticism.  He  is  fond  of  books,  art 
and  travel,  and  is  almost  as  familiar  with  the  politics  of  Europe  as  with  those  of 
his  own  country.  He  is  dignified  and  kindly  without  a  trace  of  egotism  or 
vanity.  Senator  Gear  of  Iowa,  said  of  him:  "There  is  nothing  of  a  coward 
about  Allison.  He  is  cautious,  but  not  cowardly.  He  has  a  stiff  back-bone  in 
him,  and  when  the  occasi(Mi  demands,  he  always  shows  that  he  has  convictions 
and  the  courage  to  su[)port  them.  He  has  been  in  public  life  for  a  generation, 
and  although  he  is  sixty-seven  years  old,  he  looks  and  really  is  ten  years  younger, 
and  in  the  prime  of  physical  condition." 


DAVID  BENNETT  HILL. 


GOVERNOR,  SENATOR  AND  POI.ITICAI.  LEADER. 


"  I  AM  a  Democrat,"  was 
the  superlluoiis  declaration 
of  United  .States  Senator 
David  Bennett  Hill,  some 
time  since,  for,  anions-  all 
the  leadim;  Democrats  of  the 
country,  there  is  no  more 
pronounced  party  man  than 
he.  It  was  .Samuel  J.  Tilden, 
the  .Sao^e  of  Greystone,  who 
ten  years  before  said  to  him  : 
"  You  have  never  failed  me  ; 
you  have  always  been  loyal 
and  honorable  ;  you  can  be 
trusted  ;  you  are  honest ;  you 
have  brains  ;  such  men  are 
rare.  The  American  people 
appreciate  power  and  manli- 
ness and  ability,  and  you 
possess  all  three.  I  am 
proud  of  you.  Whatever 
you  do  in  public  life,  never 
forget  that  you  are  a  Demo- 
crat." And  Mr.  Hill  has 
never  forgotten  it. 

Caleb  Hill  was  a  Connecticut  farmer,  who  removed  to  the  State  of  New- 
York  early  in  the  present  century,  and  David  Bennett,  the  youngest  of  five 
children,  was  born  in  1843,  •"  the  town  of  Havana,  Schuyler  county.  His 
mother  was  a  woman  of  rare  intelligence  and  force  of  character,  and  her  ex- 
ample and  training  had  much  to  do  with  the  success  of  her  son  in  after  life. 

David  was  a  weak,  sickly  boy  and  his  parents  did  not  believe  he  would  live 
to  reach  maturity.     It  is  said  that  nearly  every  crone  who   met  him  had  a  habit 


DAVID    IIKNNI'.TT    HIM. 


7^4  DAV/D   UENNETT  HILL. 

of  chucking  him  under  the  chin  and  solemnly  remarkinj^^ ;  "Poor  boy,  he  will 
not  be  with  us  lon-^r,  but  I  suppose  hi;  will  be  better  off  amonj^r  the  anj^els." 
"  I  don't  want  to  be  an  anL^itl,"  ani^aily  protested  the  lad,  who  up  to  the  present, 
has  had  his  wish  j^Tatified. 

His  w(,'ak  health  made  yount;  Hill  a  studious  boy  and  he  dev(;loped  a 
marked  talent  for  conijjositit)n.  1  le  was  the  pupil  always  selected  to  read  a 
composition  or  deliver  a  speech  at  school  celebrations,  and,  when  he  was  still 
<[uiti;  youn^-,  many  of  th(.'  shrewd  neighbors  prophesied  a  brilliant  future  for 
the  youth.  At  the  ;\.<gQ.  of  seventeen  years,  he  attended  a  political  nieetinL,-^  at 
Watkins'  C'den.  1  le  had  just  been  !^^raduat(.'d  from  the  I  lioh  School,  and  like 
the  others  had  t^^one  to  the  (ilen  to  listen  to  the  address  of  a  famous  political 
orator. 

The  orator  did  not  appear,  much  to  the  disappointment  of  the  multitude. 
When  they  were  about  to  separate,  the  committee  observed  younj^  Mill  in  the 
crowd,  and  aware  of  his  skill  as  a  speaker,  uri^ed  him  to  o^o  upon  the  platform. 
He  consented  and  delivered  a  speech,  full  of  j^ood  sense  and  displaying'  such 
a  familiarity  with  politics  that  the  audience  was  surprised  and  delij^hted.  "  1  le's 
made  of  the  right  stuff,"  remarked  one  of  the  old  men,  "he'll  be  heard  from 
again." 

Fortunately  by  this  time  Hill  had  acquired  sound  health,  and  the  old 
women  and  pessimists  agreed  that  the  time  for  his  becoming  an  angel  would 
have  to  be  postponed  indefinitely. 

His  father  died  while  he  was  a  lad  and  his  mother  eked  out  a  living  as  best 
she  could  from  the  heavily  mortgaged  farm.  David  contributed  all  the  help  he 
could,  selling  papers  and  candies  on  the  New  York  Central  Railway,  before  he 
had  entered  his  teens.  Having  passed  through  the  High  School,  he  now  en- 
tered a  law  office  in  l^lmira  and  began  the  study  of  law.  He  was  a  hard  stu- 
dent, and  did  two  years'  work  in  one,  being  admitted  to  the  bar,  when  he  had 
barely  reached  the  age  of  twenty-one.  Two  months  later  he  was  appointed 
city  attorney,  and  was  thus  fairly  launched  upon  the  sea  of  politics,  where  he  has 
made  a  brilliant  reputation.  His  sound  judgment,  his  great  ability  and  his 
aggressive  nature  caused  him  to  forge  to  the  front  quickly,  and  he  was  selected 
as  a  delegate  to  the  Democratic  .State  convention  in  i868.  Two  years  later,  lie 
was  elected  to  the  legislature  and  attracted  the  attendon  of  Samuel  J.  Tilden. 

At  the  expiration  of  his  term,  Hill  returned  to  Elmira,  where  he  became 
alderman.  His  record  was  so  satisfactory,  that  he  was  nominated  for  mayor  and 
defeated  one  of  the  most  popular  of  Republicans.  His  cour.se  brought  him  before 
the  State  convention  in  1882,  and  he  was  elected  lieutenant-governor  on  the 
ticket  which  placed  Grover  Cleveland  in  the  gubernatorial  chair.  In  1S85,  he 
was  chosen  governoj"  by  a  large  majority,  being  re-elected,  and  holding  the  office 
until  1 89 1.     In  the  latter  year  he  was  chosen   United  States  Senator,  for  the 


HENRY  MOORE   TELLER.  735 

term  e.\[)inn<:,'-  in  1897.  In  the  face  of  his  oarn(!st  protest  he  was  forceil  to  take 
the  nomination  for  governor  in  1S94,  against  Levi  W  Morton.  It  was  the 
Republican  "landslide"  year,  when  there  was  no  earthly  hope  of  success  for 
the  Democrats,  but  Hill  went  into  the  canvass  and  foui^dit  to  the  t  lul  with  his 
accustomed  ener^^y  and  skill.  He  had  the  determined  su|)port  of  a  minc^rity  in 
the  convention  which  placed  Grover  Cleveland  in  nomination  for  the  prc:sidency 
in  iSgn,  and  has  often  been  named  since  in  connection  with  that  hi;^h  office. 

.Senator  Hill  has  reachu'd  success  by  stutly,  hard  work,  intcL;rity,  aiul  tin; 
momentum  of  natural  ability.  I  le  is  not  a  brilliant  speaker,  and  rarely  are  his 
adilrer.ses  lit  up  by  Hashes  of  humor  ;  but  they  are  solid,  full  of  fact,  and  logical. 
Me  is  e.xtremely  popular  with  his  own  party,  which  would  be  proud  to  honor  him 
with  any  office  within  its  ijift.  He  is  respected  for  his  talents,  and  commands 
the  attention  of  the  .Senate  when  he  rises  to  speak.  It  is  to  his  credit  that  he 
does  not  use  tobacco  in  any  form,  and  he  never  tasted  liquor  but  once,  which 
was  simply  to  learn  what  sort  of  flavor  the  poison  has.  He  is  averse  to  female 
society,  tindinj:]^  his  greatest  pleasure  in  his  books  and  the  company  of  his  own 
se.x.  Now  and  then,  there  are  mysterious  reports  of  his  engagement  to  some 
lady,  but  if  ever  he  does  take  to  himself  a  wife,  it  will  be  the  most  une.xpected 
act  of  his  life. 


HENRY   MOORE  TELLER. 

BUSINESS  ORGANIZER  AND  CHAMPION  OF  SILVER  COINAGE. 

Henry  Moore  Teli.lr  is  of  Dutch  descent  and  was  born  at  Granger, 
Allegheny  county,  N.  Y.,  May  23,  1830.  He  received  a  good  academic 
education,  and  while  in  attendance  at  the  academy,  taught  school  at  intervals 
in  order  to  help  pay  the  e.xpenses  of  his  education. 

Having  completed  his  course  at  the  academy,  he  took  up  the  study  of  law 
under  the  instruction  of  Judge  Martin  Grover,  and  was  admitted  to  the  bar, 
January  5,  1858,  at  Binghamton  in  his  native  State.  Like  many  other  young 
men,  Mr.  Teller  formed  the  idea  that  the  West  offered  a  wider  field  for  success, 
although  his  first  move  was  not  very  far  in  that  direction.  He  located  at  Mor- 
rison, Whitesides  county,  Illinois,  and  began  the  practice  of  his  profession.  He 
had  been  a  hard  student  and  was  well  grounded  in  his  profession.  He  met 
with  excellent  success,  but  became  convinced  that  he  had  not  gone  as  far  west 
as  was  best  for  him.  Accordingly,  in  April,  1861,  he  emigrated  to  Colorado, 
which  is  still  his  home. 


726 


HENRY  MO  ORE   TELLER. 


In  that  Territory,  he  found  a  congenial  field  for  his  ability  and  energy,  not 
only  in  law  but  in  business  enterprises.  The  legal  firm  which  he  formed  was 
H.  M.  &  \V.  Teller.  Fully  alive  to  the  vast  possibilities  of  the  new  country, 
Mr.  Teller  became  interested  in  its  development.  He  originated  and  pushed  to 
a  successful  issue  the  Colorado  Central  Railroad.  He  drew  the  charter  and 
presented  it  to  the  Territorial  k^gislature  in  1S65,  and  for  five  years  he  was  presi- 
dent of  the  company.  He  infused  his  own  energy  and  spirit  in  the  manage- 
ment of  the  line,  and  gave 
new  proof  of  his  e.xceptional 
ability  as  an  organizer  and 
thorough  railway  manager. 
The  finances  could  not  have 
been  conducted  with  better 
judgment  and  he  quickly 
made  the  railroad  the  lead- 
ing one  in  the  Territory. 

During  the  Indian 
troubles  of  1863,  Mr.  Teller 
was  appointed  brigadier- 
general  of  the  militia,  serv- 
ing with  much  acceptability 
for  two  years,  when  he  re- 
signed. 

Although  originally  a 
Democrat,  Mr.  Teller  joined 
the  Republican  party  in  1855, 
when  it  was  in  its  infancv. 
He  became  a  power  in  poli- 
tics, commanding  the  respect 
and  confidence  of  all  classes. 
He  never  sought  office  and 
did  not  .seem  to  care  for 
political  honors,  but  in  1876, 
upon  the  admission  of  Colorado  as  a  State,  he  was  placed  in  nomination  as  one  of 
the  first  United  .States  Senators,  and  without  any  effort  on  his  part,  was  elected,  li 
drawing  for  the  long  and  short  terms,  he  secured  the  short  one  and  took  his  seat, 
December  4,  1876.  He  was  re-elected  the  same  month,  and  served  until  April, 
1882,  when  he  was  appointed  Secretary  of  the  Interior  by  President  Arthur,  serv- 
ing until  March  3,  1885,  when  he  was  again  elected  to  the  United  States  Senate 
to  succeed  Nathaniel  P.  Hill,  Republican.  .Senator  Teller  took  his  seat,  March 
4,  1885,  to  be  elected  once  more  in  1890.     His  term  expires  March  3,  1897. 


HENRY  MOORF,  TELLER. 


WILLIAM  LYNIi    117/.S0.V.  727 

Senator  Teller  has  long-  been  a  jjrominent  I'Vee  Mason  and  Knight  Tem- 
plar. He  was  (irand  Master  of  Colorado  for  seven  years,  and  was  also  Cirand 
Commander  of  the  Knights  Templar  of  the  same  State,  liis  career  shows  his 
popularity  with  the  people.  His  integrity  has  never  been  ([uestion(;d.  Ik;  is 
genial,  with  an  attractive  manner,  laborious  in  his  profession,  and  with  a  chari- 
table nature.  More  persons  tlian  would  be  suspected  have  received  valuable 
aitl  at  his  hands,  and  the  toiler,  no  matter  how  humble,  knows  that  he  has  one 
of  the  best  and  truest  friends  in  him.  As  a  representative  of  the  sentimtnits 
of  Colorado,  Senator  Teller,  it  need  hardly  be  said  is  a  pronounced  "silver 
man,"  as  he  has  [)roved  times  without  number  in  the  warm  debates  and  strug- 
gles which  have  taken  place  during  the  last  few  years  in  Washington.  1  lis 
ability,  forceful  logic,  and  commanding  courage  have  given  him  a  national  rcqni- 
tation  and  a  popularity  whicli  places  him  at  the  head  of  the  champions  of  his 
financial  ideas,  and  with  scarcely  a  rival  in  the  great  West. 


WILLIAM  LYNE  WILSON. 

SCHOLAR    AND    TARIFF    REFORMER. 

William  Lvm:  Wii.sox  was  born  in  Jefferson  county,  West  X'irginia, 
then  a  part  of  X'irginia.  May  3,  1843.  His  father  Benjamin  Wilson  died  when 
the  son  and  only  child  was  only  four  years  old,  and  he  was  thus  left  to  the 
care  of  his  widowed  mother.  She  trained  him  carefuU)-,  and  having  entered 
Columbian  College,  in  Washington,  D.  C,  he  was  graduated  in  i860,  and  the 
same  year  became  a  student  at  the  University  of  V'irginia. 

Those  were  stirring  times,  for  the  country  was  al)out  to  plunge  into  civil 
war.  Young  Wilson  had  been  in  the  University  less  than  a  year,  when,  with 
the  majority  of  students,  h(.>  withdrew  to  enter  the  Confederate  servicf.-,  in  which 
he  remained  until  the  final  surrender  at  Appomatto.x.  He  then  returned  to 
Columbian  College,  in  which  he  was  appointed  Professor  of  AncicMit  Languages. 
While  meeting  the  duties  of  this  honorable  place,  he  studitnl  law  ami  was  grad- 
uated from  the  law  school  of  that  institution  in  1867.  At  that  time  the  "test 
oaths"  prevented  any  person  who  had  served  in  the  Confederate  service  from 
practicing  in  the  courts  of  West  Virginia,  but  the  law  was  n^pealed  in  1871  and 
Professor  Wilson  began  the  duties  of  his  profession  in  Charlestown.  He  was 
chosen  as  one  of  the-  West  \'irginia  delegates  to  the  National  Democratic  Con- 


728 


WILLIAM  LYME   WILSON. 


vention  in  iSSo,  and  as  a  State  Elector  at  Lar^^^e  on  the  presidential  Democratic 
ticket  of  that  year. 

In  1SS2  he  became  president  of  the  West  Viro;inia  State  University,  and 
two  weeks  later  was  nominated  by  the  Democratic  Convention  of  the  Second 
District  for  Representative  in  Cono;r(;ss,  and  elected  in  the  following  November. 
He  acted  as  president  of  the  University  from  March  4,  1883,  without  salary, 
until  he  took  his  seat  as  a  member  of  the  Forty-eighth  Congress,  in  December 

of  that  year.  He  served  for 
six  terms,  but  was  swept 
under  by  the  wave  of  Repub- 
lican successes  in  November, 
1894.  Postmaster  General 
Bissell  having  resigned  early 
in  1895.  President  Cleveland 
nominated  Professor  Wilson 
as  his  successor,  and  he  was 
prompdy  confirmed  by  the 
Senate.  His  appointment 
gave  general  satisfaction  to 
all  parties,  for  it  was  only  a 
recognition  of  his  extraor- 
dinary services  in  the  cause 
of  tariff  reform. 

In  1893,  Professor  Wil- 
son was  chairman  of  the 
Ways  and  Means  commit- 
tee, and  the  tariff  bill  which 
he  presented  in  that  year 
and  fought  through  the 
House,  drew  the  attention 
of  the  entire  country  to  him. 
No  man  ever  wrought  harder 
than  he,  toiling  all  day  and 
far  into  the  night,  and  none  could  have  made  a  more  vigorous,  determined  and 
successful  contest  upon  the  floor  of  the  House.  When  triumph  came  at  last,  he 
was  carried  on  the  shoulders  of  his  shouting  adherents,  the  scene  being  one 
which  no  witness  can  ever  forget.  His  exhausting  labors  proved  serious,  for  his 
health  broke  down  and  it  was  a  long  time  before  he  regained  in  any  degree 
his  usual  strength.  The  "Wilson  Hill,"  whose  merits  it  \%  not  our  province  to 
discuss,  has  taken  its  place  in  history  and  the  author  is  acknowledged  to  be 
one  of  the  brainiest  and  ablest  members  of  his  party. 


WII.I.IAM    I.YNK    WILSON. 


WILLIAM  McKINLEY,   JR.  729 

Professor  Wilson  is  a  small  man,  slender  of  frame,  and  barely  five  feet  in 
height.  His  pale  face  is  that  of  a  student,  and  his  fine  hair  is  rapidly  becoming 
white.  Although  wholly  absorbed  in  his  public  duties  while  in  Washington, 
when  he  is  at  his  home  in  Charlestown,  West  Virginia,  he  is  a  merry,  rollicking 
boy  among  his  own  four  sons,  provided  they  are  at  home  with  him.  He  is  the 
happy  father  also  of  two  daughters  and  the  family  is  an  ideal  one.  Both  he  and 
his  accomplished  wife  are  IJaptists,  and  when  the  news  of  his  nomination  to  Con- 
gress reached  him,  they  were  at  a  prayer  meeting.  It  was  a  case  of  the  office 
seeking  the  man,  and  Professor  Wilson  has  never  in  any  sense  of  the  word  been 
a  wire-puller. 

A  little  fact  may  be  mentioned  here :  the  small  pale  disk  which  Professor 
Wilson  sometimes  wears  aS  a  scarf  pin,  was  struck  two  thousand  two  hun- 
dred years  ago,  by  command  of  the  founder  of  the  Macedonian  empire.  It 
shows  the  profile  of  Philip,  and  is  one  of  the  rarest  coins  in  existence,  carrying 
us  back  to  the  luminous  noontide  of  Greek  civilization,  which  still  glows  for  the 
student  beyond  the  mists  and  shadows  of  encroaching  centuries. 


WILLIAM  McKINLEY,  JR. 

TARIFF  REFORMER  AND  GOVERNOR. 

William  McKixlev,  Jr.,  was  born  in  Niles,  Trumbull  County,  Ohio, 
January  29,  1843.  His  father  was  a  German  by  birth  and  lived  to  his  85th 
year,  his  mother,  of  Scotch  descent,  being  still  alive  at  this  writing.  William 
was  the  third  son.  The  eldest,  Uavid,  is  a  resident  of  San  Francisco,  where, 
until  1894,  he  was  the  Hawaiian  Cons'd  General  to  the  United  States.  The 
second  son,  James,  died  a  few  years  ag^ ,  and  Abner,  younger  than  William,  is 
engaged  in  business  in  the  city  of  New  York. 

When  five  years  old,  William  attended  the  village  school  at  Niles,  continu- 
ing his  studies  at  a  more  advanced  school  at  Poland,  whither  his  parents  removed 
in  order  to  obtain  better  educational  advantages  for  their  children.  When  not 
quite  sixteen,  William  was  sent  to  the  Allegheny  College  at  Meadville,  Pa.,  but 
fell  ill  and  had  to  return  home.  When  he  recovered,  he  began  teaching  school, 
receiving  ^25  a  month  and  "boarding  around."  He  was  thus  engaged,  when 
the  country  was  thrilled  by  the  news  that  Fort  Sumter  had  been  fired  upon. 
Instantly  the  pale-faced,  gray-eyed  student,  (lung  aside  his  books  and  enlisted  as 


730 


WIUJAM  McKINLEY,   JR. 


a  private  in  the  war  for  the  Union.  It  was  patriotism  of  the  loftiest  nature  which 
inspired  the  youn<^-  teacher.  lie  was  mustered  in  at  Columbus  in  June,  by 
General  John  C.  Fremont,  who  thump(;d  the  young  man's  chest,  looked  in  his 
clear  eye,  and  surveyinjj;-  him  from  head  to  foot  said  :   "  You'll  do  !  " 

Young  iMcKinley  was  attached  to  the  Twenty-third  Ohio  Volunteer 
Infantry,  and  remained  with  it  to  the  close  of  the  war.  During  that 
period,  he   served   on  the  staff  of  Brigadier  General   Rutherford   B.   Hayes, 

afterwards  President  of  the 
United  .States,  on  the  staff 
of  the  famous  Indian  fighter. 
General  Crook,  and  sub- 
sequently on  that  of  Briga- 
dier General  Hazen,  He 
was  in  all  the  engagements 
in  which  his  regiment  took 
part,  and  was  made  a  second 
lieutenant  directly  after  the 
battle  of  Antietam,  upon  che 
urgent  recommendation  of 
General  Hayes.  He  became 
first  lieutenant,  February  7, 
1863,  captain,  July  25,  1864, 
and  was  breveted  major  by 
President  Lincoln  for  gallant 
conduct  on  the  fields  of 
Opequan,  Fisher's  Hill  and 
Cedar  Creek,  being  mus- 
tered out  with  his  regiment, 
in  July,  1865. 

Thus    at    the    age    of 
twenty-two,  Major  McKinley 
was  a  fire-tried  veteran  of  the 
war  for  the  Union,  with  a 
record  to  which  he  can  always  refer  with  patriotic  pride. 

But  the  war  was  over,  the  Union  restored,  and  the  modest  young  man, 
without  pausing  to  boast  of  his  deeds,  entered  upon  the  study  of  law.  He  was 
graduated  from  the  Albany  (N.  Y. )  Law  .School,  and  setding  in  the  litde  town 
of  Canton,  Ohio,  waited  for  his  clients  to  come  to  him.  They  straggled  thither, 
and  fortunate  were  all  who  secured  the  services  of  the  brilliant,  conscientious, 
and  learned  lawyer.  His  ability  attracted  the  attention  of  Judge  Belden,  who 
invited  him  to  a  partnership  with  him,  and  the  connection  lasted  until  the  death 


WIl.llAM    MCKINLF.Y,    JR. 


WILLIAM  McK/NLIi)\   JR.  731 

of  the  Jud^c  in  1870.  1  tis  townsmen  showed  then"  appreciation  of  the  young 
man  by  electing  hini,  in  1869,  prosecuting  attorney  of  Starl<  county,  an  office 
which  he  held  for  a  number  of  yours.  1  le  had  already  established  his  reputa- 
tion as  a  powerful  jury  lawyer  and  one  of  the  best  speakers  in  the  State. 

At  the  age  of  thirty-three,  the  people  of  his  district  elected  him  their  repre- 
sentative in  Congress,  his  re-election  following  until  1890,  when,  through  the 
gerrymandering  of  his  district,  he  was  defeated  by  a  small  majority.  IVom 
January,  1S92  to  January,  1894,  and  again  until  January,  1896,  he  was  Governor 
of  Ohio,  his  election  being  among  the  most  notable  triumphs  of  his  career. 

While  in  Congress,  McKinley  was  a  member  of  the  Committee  on  Revision 
of  Laws,  the  Judiciary  Committee,  the  Committee  on  Expenditures  in  the  Post 
Office  Department,  and  the  Committee  on  Rules.  Upon  the  nomination  of 
General  Garfield  for  the  Presidency,  McKinley  took  his  place  on  the  Committee 
on  Ways  and  Means,  serving  with  the  committee  for  the  rest  of  his  time  in 
Congress.  It  was  while  he  was  chairman  that  he  framed  the  "  McKinley  Bill," 
which  still  bears  his  name.  This  tariff  act  became  law,  October  i,  1S90,  and 
provided  for  a  high  rate  of  duty  on  an  immense  number  of  articles  imported 
from  foreign  countries,  but  made  sugar  free.  Its  purpose  was  to  reduce  the 
national  revenue  and  to  increase  protection. 

The  work  involved  in  the  preparation  of  this  bill  is  almost  inconceivable. 
It  contained  thousands  of  items  and  covered  every  interest  in  the  country.  I'or 
four  weeks,  while  the  House  was  in  session,  he  was  almost  constantly  upon  his 
feet,  answering  numberless  questions,  meeting  objections  and  giving  informa- 
tion. With  the  exception  of  two  minor  amendments,  it  passed  exactly  as  it 
came  from  the  hands  of  the  committee. 

A  correspondent  of  the  New  York  Press  thus  describes  the  man  :  "Quiet, 
dignified,  modest,  considerate  of  others,  ever  mindful  of  the  long  service  of  the 
veterans  of  his  party,  true  as  steel  to  his  friends,  unhesitating  at  the  call  of 
duty,  no  matter  what  the  personal  sacrifice  ;  unwavering  in  his  integrity,  full  of 
tact  in  overcoming  opposition,  yet  unyielding  on  vital  party  principles,  with  a 
heart  full  of  sympathy  for  those  who  toil,  a  disposition  unspoiled  by  success  and  a 
private  life  as  spotless  as  self  sacrificing,  he  stands  before  the  American  people 
to-day  as  one  of  the  finest  types  of  courageous,  persevering,  vigorous,  and 
developing  manhood  that  the  Rei)ublic  has  ever  produced." 

A  peculiar  proof  of  Major  McKinley's  exalted  sense  of  honor  was  given 
at  the  dead-lock  in  the  presidential  convention  of  1S88.  A  movement  on  the 
fourth  ballot  suddenly  set  in  in  his  favor,  which  could  have  W\q.\\  readily  turned 
into  a  stampede.  Put  he  was  there  as  the  pledged  friend  of  Senator  John 
Sherman,  and  nothing  could  swerve  him  from  his  allegiance.  He  checked  the 
movement  at  its  beginning,  and  those  who  would  have  tempted  him  turned 
back  at    sight  of   that  earnest  countenance  and  at  the  ringing  tones  of   that 


732  CHAUNCEV  MITCHELL   DEPEW. 

clociuent  volet;.  Almost  precisely  the  same  thing  was  repeated  four  years  later 
at  Minneapolis,  when  the  nomination  would  have  assuredly  gone  to  him,  had  he 
not  peremptorily  checked  it,  and  ordered  the  delegates  from  his  own  State  to 
vote  as  they  had  been  instructed.  The  history  of  recent  years  shows  that  not 
many  placed  in  the  situation  of  Major  McKinley  were  able  to  come  out  of  it 
unscathed  and  without  the  smell  of  fire  upon  their  garments. 

A  man  like  Major  McKinley  could  not  fail  to  make  an  ideal  husband,  when 
blessed  as  he  is  with  an  ideal  wife.  Both  of  th(Mr  children  died  in  inAmcy,  and 
the  wife  is  an  invalid,  but  though  their  silver  wedding  was  celebrated  in  January, 
1896,  no  lovers  were  ever  more  chivalrously  devoted  to  each  other  than  are 
they,  now  that  they  have  reached  tht;  meridian  of  life.  Mrs.  McKinley  is  as 
staunch  a  protectionist  as  her  husband,  and  is  firmly  persuaded  that  no  man 
quite  so  good  and  great  has  ever  been  born.  When  he  is  expected  at  home, 
she  is  at  the  window  watching  for  him,  His  last  act  is  to  kiss  her  on  the  thresh- 
old, followed  by  a  turn  and  salute  when  about  to  pass  out  of  sight.  No 
sweeter  picture  can  be  imagined  than  this  couple,  whose  whole  life  is  the  most 
emphatic  contradicdon  of  the  sneer  that  "  Marriage  is  a  failure."  The  two  are 
members  of  the  Methodist  church,  and,  should  they  ever  be  called  to  the 
highest  station  in  the  gift  of  the  American  people,  it  is  certain  that  none  will 
wear  the  honors  more  worthily  than  they. 


CHAUNCEY  MITCHELL  DEPEW. 

THE  APOSTLE  OF  SUNSHINE  AND  CHEERF'ILNESS. 

Chaintev  MiTciiEi.L  Dki'EW  was  born  at  Peekskill,  N.  Y.,  April  23, 
i8u-  His  remote  ancestors  were  French  Huguenots,  who  founded  New 
Rochelle,  in  West-chester  county.  His  father,  Isaac  Depew,  was  a  prominent 
and  highly  esteemed  citizen  of  Peekskill,  and  his  mother,  Martha  Mitchell,  was 
a  representative  of  the  disdnguished  New  England  family,  one  of  whose 
members,  Roger  Sherman,  was  a  signer  of  the  Declaration  of  Independence. 

Chauncey  spent  his  boyhood  in  Peekskill,  ^vhere  he  prepared  for  college. 
He  was  a  bright  student,  and  at  the  age  of  eighteen  entered  Yale  College,  from 
which  he  was  gratluated  in  1856,  with  one  of  the  first  honors  of  his  class.  In 
June,  1887  Yale  conferred  upon  him  the  degree  of  LL.  D.  It  will  be  noted 
that  Mr.  Depew  reached  his  majority  at  about  the  time  of  the  formation  of  the 
Republican  party.     Although  of  Democratic  antecedents,  he  had  been  a  close 


CHAUNCEV  MITCHELL  DEPEIV. 


733 


student  of  politics  and  his  sympathies  were  with  the  aims  of  the  new  political 
organization,  to  which  he  speedily  i^ave  his  allegiance. 

Mr.  Depew  studied  law  in  his  native  village,  ami  was  admitted  to 
the  bar  in  iS^S.  In  the  same  vear,  he  was  elected  as  a  delegate  to  the 
Republican  .State  convention,  this  being  an  acknowledgment  of  the  interest 
he  had  taken  in  the  party,  and  the  skill  and  energy  h(;  had  shown  in 
advocating  its  policy.  He  began  the  practice  of  law  in  1859,  and  was  highly 
successful  from  the  first. 
Few  men  of  the  present  day 
are  so  gifted  with  eloquence, 
wit,  and  the  power  of  giving 
an  instant  and  happy  turn  to 
the  most  une.xpected  inter- 
ruptions or  occurrences.  In 
his  early  manhood,  his  strik- 
ing power  as  a  stump 
speaker,  his  readiness  at  re- 
partee, and  his  never  failing 
good  humor,  made  him  a 
giant  in  politics,  to  which  he 
was  literally  forced  to  give 
attention.  But  with  all  these 
extraorditiary  gifts,  he  could 
launch  the  thunderbolts  of 
invective  against  wrong  and 
stir  the  profoundest  depths 
of  emotion  by  his  appeals. 
He  loved  liberty  and  hated 
oppression,  and  has  always 
believed  that  the  United 
States  of  America  is  the 
happiest  and  greatest  coun- 
try upon  which  the  sun  ever 
shone.      His  patriotic  speeches  are  models  of  eloquence  and  power. 

In  i860,  he  took  the  stump  for  Abraham  Lincoln  and  added  greatly  to  his 
reputation  as  a  ready,  forceful  and  brilliant  pleader  for  that  which  he  believed  to 
be  right.  No  speaker  was  so  welcome  as  he  to  his  audience,  whether  composed 
of  scholars,  of  business  men,  or  of  the  uneducated  masses.  He  was  sure  to  say 
something  entertaining,  something  instructive  and  something  worth  remember- 
ing. He  was  never  dull ;  he  was  logical  and  luminous,  and  no  matter  how 
lengthy  his  addresses,  he  was  sure  to  be  greeted  with  cries  of  "  Go  on  !  go  on  !  " 
43 


CHAI-NCFY   MITCHr.I.I,    PFrKW. 


734  CHAUNCEY  MITCHELL  DEPEV. . 

at  their  conclusion.  It  cannot  be  denied  that  he  contributed  much  to  the  suc- 
cess of  that  memorable  election. 

In  1 86 1,  Mr.  Depew  was  nominated  for  the  Assembly  in  the  Third  West- 
chester County  District,  and  althoutrh  the  constituency  was  largely  Democratic, 
he  was  elected  by  a  handsome  majority.  He  fully  met  all  the  high  expectations 
formed,  and  was  re-elected  in  1862.  By  his  geniality,  wit.  integrity  and  courtesy 
he  became  as  popular  among  his  political  opponents  as  among  his  friends.  He 
■was  made  his  party's  candidate  for  Secretary  of  State,  directly  after  the  Demo- 
crats had  won  a  notable  triumph  by  the  election  of  Horatio  Seymour  as  gov- 
ernor ;  but  by  his  dash  and  brilliancy  and  his  prodigious  endurance  (he  spoke 
twice  a  day  for  six  weeks),  he  secured  a  majority  of  30,000.  So  admirably  did 
he  perform  the  duties  of  the  office  that  he  was  offered  a  renomination,  but 
declined. 

During  the  administration  of  President  Johnson,  Secretary  of  State  Seward 
appointed  Mr.  Depew  Minister  to  Japan,  but  after  consideration,  the  offer  was 
declined.  He  seemed  to  have  decided  to  withdraw  from  politics  and  to  devote 
his  time  and  energies  to  his  profession.  That  shrewd  railway  man  and  financier, 
Commodore  Vanderbilt,  had  watched  the  career  of  Depew,  and  had  formed  a 
strong  admiration  for  him,  while  the  eldest  son,  William  H.  Vanderbilt,  became 
his  firm  friend.  In  1866,  Mr.  Depew  was  appointed  the  attorney  of  the  New 
York  and  Harlem  Railroad  Company,  and  three  years  later,  when  that  road  was 
consolidated  with  the  New  York  Central,  he  was  made  the  attorney  of  the  new 
organization,  being  afterward  elected  a  member  of  the  Board  of  Directors. 

As  other  and  extensive  roads  were  added  to  the  system,  Mr.  Depew  in 
1875,  was  promoted  to  be  general  counsel  for  them  all,  and  elected  to  a  direc- 
torship in  each  of  the  numerous  organizations.  The  year  previous,  the  legisla- 
ture had  made  him  Regent  of  the  State  University,  and  one  of  the  Commission- 
ers to  build  the  Capitol  at  Albany. 

In  1884,  the  United  States  senatorship  was  tendered  to  Mr.  Depew,  but  he 
was  committed  to  so  many  business  and  professional  trusts  that  he  felt  compelled 
to  decline  the  honor.  Two  years  before,  William  H.  Vanderbilt  had  retired  from 
the  presidency  of  the  New  York  Central,  and  in  the  reorganization  Mr.  Depew 
was  made  second  Vice-President.  The  President,  Mr.  Rutter,  died  in  1885,  and 
Mr.  Depew  was  elected  to  the  presidency,  which  office  he  still  holds. 

His  previous  experience  had  made  him  thoroughly  familiar  with  all  the  in- 
tricacies and  minutiai  of  the  immense  business,  its  policy,  its  relations  with  other 
corporations,  its  rights,  responsibilities  and  limitations,  and  none  was  so  well 
equipped  for  the  responsible  post  as  he.  "The  basilar  fact  in  Mr.  Depew's 
character  is  a  profound  and  accurate  judgment,  and  this  asserts  itself  in  all  his 
manifold  relations  with  men  and  affairs,  and  in  every  effort  he  puts  forth  in  any 
direction.     Practical  common  sense,  tact,  an  exquisite  sense  of  the  proprieties,  a 


CHAUNCEY  MITCHELL  DEPEIV.  735 

singular  aptitude  for  business,  and  an  intuitive  appreciation  of  the  value  of 
means  with  reference  to  their  ends,  are  manifestations  of  this  judgment  ;  and  if 
we  add  a  strong  will,  great  executive  ability,  untirinjj  industry,  and  instinctive 
love  of  order,  and  a  readiness  to  adopt  the  best  method,  an  intellect  of  astonish- 
ing range  and  remarkable  promptness  in  the  solution  of  intricate  problems,  we 
have  a  correct  estimate  of  the  qualities  which  place  him  in  the  first  rank  of  rail- 
way managers." 

At  tke  National  Republican  convention  of  18SS,  New  York  voted  solidly 
for  Mr.  Depew  as  its  candidate  for  the  Presidency,  but  he  withdrew  his  name. 
At  the  convention  at  Minneapolis  in  1892,  he  was  selected  to  present  the  name 
of  President  Harrison,  and  made  one  of  the  best  speeches  of  his  life.  When 
Mr.  Blaine  resigned  as  Secretary  of  State,  President  Harrison  urged  Mr.  Depew 
to  accept  the  place,  but  after  a  week's  deliberation,  he  felt  obliged  to  decline  the 
honor. 

It  is  impossible  in  a  sketch  like  this  to  do  justice  to  the  remarkable  versa- 
tility of  Mr.  Depew.  His  admirable  addresses  would  fill  several  bulky  volumes. 
As  an  after  dinner  speaker,  he  is  without  a  peer,  and  his  wit,  logic  and  eloquence 
never  fail  him.  What  could  be  more  apt  than  his  words,  when,  upon  entering 
a  public  hall  where  a  number  of  leading  meii  were  straining  themselves  to 
prove  the  Christian  religion  a  delusion  and  a  sham,  and  there  were  instant  and 
clamorous  calls  for  him,  he  said:  "Gentlemen,  my  mother's  Bible  is  good 
enough  for  me  ;  have  you  anything  better  to  offer?  "  And  then  with  touching 
pathos  and  impassioned  words  he  made  an  appeal  for  the  religion  which  they 
reviled,  which  must  have  pierced  the  shell  of  more  than  one  agnostic  heart 


